


Existentialist Hermit Blues

by MobiAblackout



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Cheating, Emotional Manipulation, Fights, Fluff, Gay Bar, Homelessness, Leo is trying to solve him, M/M, Neymar is an enigma, Profanity, Prostitution, Sex, couti is a doctor, cris and ramos are bosses, eventual bartender leo, ney and phil are old friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2019-10-03 12:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 90,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17283896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MobiAblackout/pseuds/MobiAblackout
Summary: Life on the streets is hard, and lonely. It gives you too much time to think, and no real way to act on your thoughts. A fateful encounter outside a subway station leads to Leo meeting someone he'd very much like to act on his thoughts of.Slowly they shift from being part of the homeless to part of the scurriers, and Neymar and Leo realise that the emotional pains of scurrying can be worse than the physical ones of homelessness.





	1. Leo

The object of life is the fleeting joy of a need fulfilled. That spark of happiness when something inside of you has been placated. It's what everyone looks for, the next need, and the next way to be satisfied. Yet satisfaction is an illusion. There is only a brief moment when everything is perfect. A few scant seconds when happiness, when satisfaction is sustained, then the next need becomes pressing, and you're driven onwards once more. Leo's used to that drive, is used to being driven by his needs, is more than used to seeing others driven by their needs.

The World is changing, and changing for the worst. At least that's the way Leo sees it. People are growing more selfish, more driven by their own needs, and less concerned with finding satisfaction in fulfilling the needs of others. There are a few left, but they're so rare that they've almost become like white whales in an ocean of sharks. The slightest drop of blood in the water draws them all into a feeding frenzy, every one of them drawn to get their pound of flesh. The World is growing more selfish. The World is growing more self-obsessed. The World is growing more narcissistic, and frustrates Leo endlessly.

When he was younger, his life had been easier. Still horribly difficult, and brutally unpleasant, but it had been easier. He'd been a cute kid if nothing else. His mother had taken advantage of that. In his youth, people had given generously to a child beggar, but now they scurry past him and his little paper cup without a backward glance. It might be that he's not bathed in a few days, it might be the fact that his eye's swollen shut from a fight he lost, it might be that he's chosen a bad pitch, but he's not seen a nickel all day, and it's got him feeling existential.

Living on the streets gives you a lot of time to think. It's something Leo's always appreciated about his life. He'd like to think he's given more thought to the human condition than the scurrying Starbucks obsessed masses. He's not hyped up on too much sugar and caffeine, so he's clear to see the World for what it is, and what it is, is nothing more than a bad joke. It's not that he thinks his status of no fixed abode is a particularly good one. Quite the opposite, if there's one thing Leo would be truly grateful for, it's an abode, but he sees the futility of the people rushing around him, not sparing a glance in his direction.

There is a system in Leo's life. A system that he's followed for as long as he can remember. A system that's kept him alive if nothing else. He's been sitting on this particular piece of sidewalk at this particular time for a week now. It's part of his system, his order of haunts to try his luck at begging. Here near the subway for morning peak hours, downtown for the lunchtime rush, back to the subway for the evening commute, a system he's thought out carefully to try and maximise his potential earnings. In this particular spot, he's seen the same faces for a week, and he can tell they're no happier with their lives than he is with his own. Sure, they look at him with pity, sure guilt sometimes forces them to drop a dime in his cup, but for the most part his presence makes them feel better about themselves.

At least I'm not that guy.

If he could read minds he's sure that's what they'd all be thinking, but in honesty, it's what he thinks of them. At least he's not rushing to a job he hates, to get money to pay for an apartment that's too small to house the family he doesn't care about. More money, more problems. It's always been Leo's philosophy. He's never seen rich people who are any happier than he is. People are always looking for the next need to fulfil. His poverty, his homelessness makes his needs more simplistic. His needs are easy to define, and in theory easy to meet. If only the scurrying masses would drop him a nickel every so often.

"This is my spot." Leo glances up at the voice. Native Brazilian , a little rough, a little tired, and unfamiliar.

"I didn't see your name on it." Leo shrugs, and studies the man in front of him, ignoring the way some people are staring at them, hoping for a fight, hoping for something to post on YouTube or Facebook, something to garner them hits and maybe a spot on local news.

"It's right there." The man smirks, and points behind Leo's head, to the crudely scrawled Neymar on the wall.

"Neymar? Weird name." Leo mutters, and the man in front of him laughs. He looks like he's been on the streets a while, not as long as Leo, but long enough to know that duct tape is your friend, long enough to know that trimming a beard is a good idea if you wear one, and Leo is beginning to get one. He's going to have to try and find a spot at a shelter for the night soon, he needs to shave at the very least, and shelters usually have free razors.

"It's my name." The man looks oddly pained, his hand coming up to rub at his forehead, pushing the beanie on his head up slightly, letting Leo catch a glimpse of a long, white scar.

"Neymar? Odd name." Leo shrugs, unwilling to surrender the spot, unwilling to change the system. "You've not been here in a week. It's my spot now, Neymar." Leo smirks, but all Neymar does is sit beside him, setting his own cup down. A scurrying person drops a quarter in it as she hurries to her train, and Leo glances over at Neymar, a slight smile on his lips.

"She always gives me a quarter... Fixed her shoe once." He shrugs, and Leo holds back an irritated sigh. Neymar seems like a nice, decent guy, there's a story behind him, and Leo's more than little certain if he stays in Neymar's company too long he'll end up being told the whole tale.

A few more quarters land in Neymar's cup, a few of the scurriers makes enquiries as Neymar's health. This is his pitch, and Leo should move on. It's probably why he's been getting so little in this spot. People get attached to their tragedies. They get used to their homeless guy, and when a new one shows up, they're resentful because it interrupts their narrative. People are only concerned with themselves, and they like the scenery in their stories only to change on their whim. People like Leo aren't people in the eyes of the scurriers, they're like pigeons with more recognisable faces. Some scurriers feed pigeons, some shoo them away, and others would shoot them on sight if it were socially acceptable, the same applies to the homeless.

"Aren't you the nice one?" Leo doesn't look at Neymar, but he can feel a smirk being aimed at him, can feel something like human interaction, and he's not sure he can really remember how that feels.

"When I want to be." Neymar chuckles, and offers a thank you to the man that drops a dollar in his cup. The note is quickly taken out of the cup, and stashed somewhere on Neymar's person. You never leave a note in the cup, you never leave too much change, and you never have nothing in it. A note makes people think you're doing fine, it might only be a dollar, but that won't stop them from thinking it's a hundred. You never have too many coins in the cup for the same reason, and you never have none because the scurriers like to hear the sound of their contribution to your meagre existence. It makes them feel like they're doing their good deed for the day, and that's important to them.

They spend maybe an hour at the station entrance, not talking, not acknowledging each other, before Neymar stands once more, and Leo, at loss for anything better to do, stands as well.

"I'm Leo, by the way." He offers, but Neymar only nods distractedly, stashing his change in various little pockets hidden in his thick layers.

"Uh-huh... I'm Neymar, nice to meet you." He mumbles, and starts walking away, heading for a larger station up the street.

"Hey, wait up." Leo chases after him, not really sure why, but knowing he's not quite willing to return to his own thoughts just yet. He might not want to hear Neymar's story, but he's not ready to be stuck with his own right then. A little company never did any harm, at least when it's simply companionship.

"Look... Neither of us are going to get anything if we're together. It looks bad... Two women are okay, a man and a woman, a man and a dog, all okay, but two men is too threatening." Neymar states calmly once they arrive at the larger station, and Leo nods, knowing Neymar's right. There are two exits, one on the left, one on the right, if they divvy it up; they'll both get a little.

"I'll go left." Leo smiles slightly, and Neymar nods vaguely, starting to walk to his door.

"Hey... Uh... Look, in a couple of hours... There's a place. We can get something to eat, if you wanna?" Neymar looks desperately uncomfortable, and Leo supposes he doesn't much wanna be alone either. Sometimes it's better to be alone on the streets, sometimes though you need someone there. Even if you don't know that person, even if they'd stolen your pitch, you need to know that there's a person there with you. Human contact, genuine human contact not marred by pity, or comparison, the warmth of a person who knows, who understands, and generally doesn't care. It's what everyone is looking for really, scurrier or homeless.

"Cool. Thanks man, I appreciate it." Leo smiles, and Neymar nods, shuffling to his spot setting himself up. Leo follows suit, and waits to see if this will be a more successful spot for him.

A few hours, and thankfully several coins, later, Neymar comes shuffling over to Leo. He looks strangely tired, even more tired than he had looked earlier, wobbling slightly even though he's standing still.

"You taking something?" It's the most obvious answer to Leo's mind. An addict is often on the streets, and weak after sitting for so long, an addict would need another hit.

"no" Neymar sneers tiredly .

"Then what's wrong?" Leo slips an arm around Neymar's waist, mildly surprised by how slight he is. He's taller than Leo, and his waist is so narrow underneath all of the layers. He can't have been eating too well lately even by homeless standards he's skinny.

"Nothing... This way." Neymar starts walking, slowly, mostly shuffling in all honesty, and Leo matches his pace, ignoring the looks, ignoring the jeers, ignoring the fact he knows all of the scurriers think that they're drunk.

"Where we headed?" Leo asks once they're away from the plaza outside the station, and making their way down a quiet street.

"To the back of a deli." Neymar smiles at him, and steps away. "Thanks... I... Sometimes I'm a little..." Neymar shakes his head, and Leo nods slightly, not too sure what to say. Sometimes you need to keep your secrets to yourself, sometimes you can reveal too much, and lose the little you have.

They make their way along the street in silence, turning into an alleyway. Neymar leans against a wall, and Leo hovers beside him waiting.

"Hey Ney! How's it going my man?" A young man comes out of the back of the deli, in his hands is a loaf of more than likely stale bread, and a half empty bottle of soda. Neymar smiles at the man, and Leo glances between them. "You forget my name again? Ney... Man... If I didn't know better, I'd be offended." He hands Neymar the food and drink, getting a grateful smile from him in return.

"I remember your face just fine." Neymar's smile gets bigger, and the man nods vaguely, staring at Leo.

"Who's your friend?" He asks, his eyes flicking over Leo, then back to Neymar. Leo isn't sure if he should say his name or trust Neymar to give it to him. Neymar tears the bread in half, clearly stalling for time.

"Uh..." Neymar turns to Leo, holding out half of the loaf, a slightly lost look on his face.

"I'm Leo." Leo offers his name to the man, and is mildly confused by the hand that's offered to him. He can't quite remember the last time someone shook his hand.

"Leo...Leo ... Good name, man. Ney'll forget it, but it's a good name." The man laughs, and Neymar shrugs, as though fully accepting the inevitability of his forgetting. "So... Ney, where you been? Ain't seen you around in a few weeks... You been doing okay?" The man sounds genuinely concerned, and Neymar nods, clearly unwilling to divulge his business. Either because he doesn't want this man to know it, or he doesn't want Leo to.

"I'm alright... Surviving." Neymar offers with a smile, and the man laughs.

"Yeah... Ain't we all?" His smile dies slowly, his eyes skimming over Neymar's face carefully. "You're looking thin again, you been remembering to eat? If you're his friend, you gotta make sure he remembers to eat." The man turns to Leo, his eyes narrowed. "Crazy bastard forgets." He laughs, his tone fond. He's clearly a friend of Neymar's and Leos not entirely sure what he is to the odd man he's been following all morning.

"I'll watch that." Leo takes a bite of the bread, and is surprised to find it's not as stale as he'd expected. It's not fresh but it's not a brick, and it actually tastes pretty good.

"So... My cousin's got a shipment coming to his restaurant tonight, might be a couple of bucks in it if you're interested?" The man's turned back to Neymar, staring at him as though willing him to say yes.

"Uh-huh? Where?" Neymar nods, sipping at the soda, and then passing the bottle over to Leo.

"You know Gerard? Big guy, mole the size of a grapefruit-"

"On his left cheek, about six two, light brown hair ?"Neymar asks, and the man nods. "His place is like two blocks down... The fancy Italian one?"

"That's the one. You might be shit with names, but Jesus, if the cops ever need a description; you're the man to go to... Makes me terrified to ask how you remember me." At this Neymar laughs, and takes his first bite of the bread.

"You'd stop feeding me if I told you." Neymar laughs, and the man snorts. "What time?"

"Bout seven... You taking your new friend? Tell Gerard that Luis sent you over. He'll know Neymar, or Neymar'll know him, but you know it's best to have names." Leo nods, he's pretty sure he'll be sticking with Neymar at least on the off-chance of getting money, a couple of dollars is better than nothing.

"Sure thing." Leo nods, tapping Neymar's arm with the bottle of soda, Neymartakes it from him, but doesn't drink just yet.

"Cool. Right man, I gotta get going. I'll let Gerard know you'll be over, Neymar, and that you're bringing a friend. I'm sure he'll have something to fatten you up." The man, Luis, Leo supposes, smiles at Neymar, getting a slight nod, and a vague smile in return. "You take care till then." He heads back into the deli, and Leo stares over at Neymar.

"I helped him out once... He needed money for a cab home." Neymar mutters, taking a sip of the soda, and sighs, before polishing off his bread. "He's a good guy." Neymar shrugs, and hands Leo the bottle. "C'mon... Let's get outta here. His boss doesn't like me hanging around, says I bring down the tone of the place." Leo laughs, and follows along behind Neymar.

"You really are nice when you want to be, aren't you?" Leo bumps Neymar's shoulder lightly.

"Yeah..." He sounds confused, and is rubbing his forehead once more.

"Hey... What's up with your head anyways?" It's not uncommon for the homeless to be sick, there's more than a few legitimate crazies on the streets, more than a few physically, and mentally disabled people out there. The sort of people the scurriers don't want to have to worry about, so they're tossed out like garbage.

"Nothing... I just forget things." Neymar snaps, and levels Leo with the sort of look that says the conversation is closed.

"Alright." Leo holds his hands up, offering his surrender, showing he's not going to push the matter. He doesn't much care about Neymar's story, for now, he's a good companion, not overly chatty, and that suits Leo just fine. He likes silence, likes being lost in his thoughts. "I've got a pretty sweet spot downtown, if you wanna..." Leo leaves the offer open, and Neymar turns to him, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "There's one of those trendy coffee shops where they let people buy coffees to keep on tap for people like us." Leo explains, and Neymar nods, falling into step with Leo. "It's ain't too far from here, so we can make it back for seven easy."

"Yeah... Sure." Neymar sighs, and Leo glances over at him. "I'm sorry... What was your name again?" Leo laughs, and Neymar frowns over at him. "If we're hanging out I should try and remember."

"Don't worry about it. I'll write it up by yours tomorrow." Leo laughs, and Neymar snorts in amusement. Silence follows them for a while, but Leo can't help but want to know a little about his companion. He's not had one in so long, and it seems rude not to enquire a little.Neymar strikes Leo as the type of guy who has a list of people Leo can benefit from, and he's not above using his odd new friend to make fulfilling his needs a little easier. "So... What other nice stuff you done?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed - Please review. A few kind words are an elixir to my weary soul.


	2. Leo & Neymar

Apathy is an affliction that the World of the scurriers suffers from greatly. They live in a fog of apathy, greedily consuming without ever giving back. There is no recompense given to those who give to them. There is no reward to be gained from the scurriers. They consume. They devour. They're a plague of locusts that destroy everything in their path. They're consummate in the art of being socially connected without ever being part of a society. There is no society in the lives of those who scurry. They have nothing that connects them to the people around them. They have Facebook, and Twitter, and Instagram, but they are solely connected to their cell phones. Eyes fixated on a small screen, never seeing what's around them. They measure their worth in their hits, they take pride in being so connected to everyone in the World, but never once do they stop to realise that they're merely spewing what's in their tepid minds out into a vast basin of tepid thought. Anything too cold, or too hot is rejected. They live in a Goldilocks' zone where everything is just right for them. Everything else is discarded. Though in all honesty, as Leo sees it, in the World of the scurriers everything is disposable.

Gentrification, urban renewal, discovering undiscovered parts of the city, and modernising them. What the scurriers mean by that is taking the streets from the people they once belonged to, and turning them into the same bland strip mall, coffee shop hell that every other city Leo has ever passed through has. He's seen enough cities to know that slowly but surely, they'll all be the same, carbon copies of one another, homogenised into one grey, pulpy mass of the Goldilocks' zone, fill with homogenised people, a cell phone in one hand, and a Starbucks cup in the other. There's no room for people like him in these cities, no place for people like Neymar Neither.

Neymar is an interesting quandary for him. Leo's not a friends kind of guy. People fall neatly into one of three categories for him. The scurriers, busy with their lives, occasionally giving him a handout to make themselves feel better. The white whales, genuine philanthropists, motivated by some honest goodness, and the other homeless. Leo has acquaintances amongst the homeless, but he doesn't have friends. If he ever had friends, he left them behind lifetimes ago, because in some ways he's like the scurriers. There are some things that Leo consumes, and the kindness, the friendship of others is one of those things.

Neymar is different though. He doesn't fit into the nice neat categories of people, because Leo's seen him do things to make it seem like he's one of those honestly good people. He helps where he can. That first day they'd spent together, Neymar had explained everyone who had helped them, who had given them something, was doing it because of something he gave them, some kind of aide or service he'd rendered that had left those people in his debt. Yet, Neymar's on the streets, he'd very much part of the homeless. Neymar's a riddle, and Leo's fond of considering riddles. Riddles are something he's fascinated by. Life is one big riddle, and no matter how long Leo considers it, he's never sure he's got it solved. Just when he thinks he's got life all figured out, he'll read another article in the library, and his thoughts will morph to include this new idea. He's not been to the library in a while, and he's sure that there'll be all kinds of new and interesting research to peruse once he visits again.

He and Neymar spend several weeks in each other's company. Neymar's complete inability to remember Leo's name is something that's slowly beginning to intrigue him. Every day, several times a day, Neymar asks him his name, and Leo tells him. He's almost tempted to tell him different names to see if one will stick, but he doesn't for fear of Neymar remember something like Barbara McCunt-Cookie, and then introducing him to people as such. So every time Leo repeats his name, and every time Neymar nods after repeating it a few times, and every time Neymar forgets. It's almost depressing, but there's a comfort in the routine that Leo's come to appreciate.

Neymar is a man of routine. The time they've spent together has followed Neymar's system, and Leo's grown fond of it. Neymar's got a good thing going here, but he's so steeped in a strange kind of mystery. He's never explained where he was for the week Leo had filled his morning pitch. He's never offered a single drop of information regarding his scar, or his forgetfulness, or his occasional bouts of wobbliness. He never comments, and Leo thinks that asking would be unwelcome to say the very least. He'd like to know, but not to the extent that it might cost him this routine.

Nights they usually spend in a park, curled up in an odd little lean-to at the side of some dumpsters. The smell isn't great, but there's shelter, and it's fairly quiet. The middle of the park is often populated by the more vocal, drunken homeless, who are more vulnerable to the drunken, bored scurriers who will make promises of all manner of things to them if they perform for their for entertainment. Violence is their preferred form of sport, from paying two drunk old men to fight, to paying some pretty girl to let them rape her, only to beat her and take the money back. There's nothing pleasant about those that scurry under the cover of darkness. Leo knows how to play them though, knows how to use these dark scurriers to his advantage, because whilst they stand staring into the abyss, thinking themselves above it, Leo sits in that abyss, and stares back at them with a smirk on his lips.

There's a darkness in everyone on the streets. It's inevitable. They live in horrors. It's only proper that they become filled with those horrors, and whilst some are consumed by the darkness, Leo has befriended it. He doesn't tremble in fear of what he's done, or what he's become, because he knows the other option is death. He's not spent all of his time puzzling over the mysteries of life only to willingly walk into those of death.

Habits form quickly on the streets. Habits designed to keep you alive. Habits that have Leo sleeping close to, but not touching Neymar. Habits that have him seeking warmth from the nearest living thing when his dreams take him. Habits that have never quite taken hold of Leo in his sleep, and he realises a second too late that he was too close to Neymar, that his hand, his arm, his leg, some part of Leo at least touched Neymar, and Neymar doesn't like being touched in his sleep. The punch in the face shocks Leo from his sleep, leaving him blinking slowly, his head filled with a low buzzing.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Neymar's on his feet quickly, shaking slightly. Leo raises slowly, hands raised in a non-threatening, surrendering gesture, trying to placate, trying to soothe.

"Ney?" He tries softly, but Neymar's not listening, or more likely can't listen because instinct has kicked in. The kick to Leo's shin sends him crashing to his knees, and the follow up boot to the chin snaps his head back, the taste of blood filling his mouth.

"Who the fuck are you?" Neymar's screaming, hysteria in his voice. "What the fuck do you want? C'mon asshole, get up! Answer me!" Leo's temper is scrambling to mount a defence as Neymar's foot connects with his ribs; instinct grabs Neymar's leg, and pulls him off balance. Anger is Leo's most familiar friend, his closest ally.

"Calm down." Yet, Leo's more rational side is telling him that this is a bad idea, that he needs to calm Neymar down, then get them out of here before the cops show up, and they're in the cells for the night. Anger won't help him, not tonight, not with Neymar, not right now.

"Lemme go!" Neymar's fists are vicious, and his voice is a desperate hissing. "Fucking lemme go!" Leo pulls his leg again, Neymar losing his footing and landing heavily on his back, the air leaving his lungs with a pained whoosh.

"Ney." It's a stupid idea to have straddled him, to be pinning him down, because Neymar fights all the more violently, struggling against Leo's weight advantage with a strength borne of fear. The noises he's making aren't recognisable as real words, more like the screams of a banshee, screeching for his freedom. The single punch Leo throws he regrets. Neymar stills instantly, blood trickling sluggishly from his nose, his chest raising and falling rapidly, his eyes wide with fear. "Ney... It's me. It's Leo." The words mean nothing. Leo can see that they're having no effect, and he stands, careful to not move too quickly and spook Neymar anymore. In the near distance, there's the sound of a siren. Leo turns to look in the direction of it, and he hears Neymar scramble away. He doesn't look to see where he's gone. It's not the time to worry about that, he's got more pressing concerns, like his own freedom.

The shelter is pretty empty, but Leo supposes he's there pretty early. The few staff on hand, that recognise him, eye Leo warily. He's been in some trouble here before, none that he'd started, but plenty that he'd finished. There are some people on the streets that don't like Leo for various reasons. His sexuality, his tendency to run volatile, his habit of never quite knowing when to shut up and take it. Leo makes few friends, and keeps even fewer, but he wishes he'd kept Neymar a little longer. They'd gotten on fairly well, and Neymar was interesting, but since the fight in the park a few nights ago, he's not seen hide or hair of Neymar.

It's strange, but Leo had gone looking for Neymar, had followed the loop they'd taken over the few weeks they'd known each other, but no one had seen Neymar. He'd been assured that sometimes Neymar vanishes. It's not uncommon for homeless people to vanish. Death is a perpetual hazard of those without a roof over their heads, but Leo doesn't think Neymar's dead. He doesn't want Neymar to be dead. He wants Neymar to be okay. He wants Neymar to come back. The man at the deli, Luis, had assured Leo that Neymar was like a stray cat. He comes round all the time for a few weeks, and then one day he's just gone. You keep looking for him, keep worrying about him, and then one day he's back, no explanation, no reason, no nothing to tell you where he's been, just back until he's gone again.

There's something about Neymar that keeps Leo's attention in a way he can't ever remember anyone else being able to. It might be the slightly unpredictable nature of Neymar. The incident in the park is something Leo can't forget. He still aches slightly every time he moves thanks to Neymar's feet and fists. It might be that Neymar has some interestingly useful connections in the city, or it might be those eyes of his. They're interesting eyes, a pretty colour, and there's more than just another sob story behind them. There's the tale of that scar, there's the tale of Neymar's mood swings, there's the tale of his terrible memory. There's more than a story behind Neymar, Leo's certain of that, behind Neymar there's an epic, and he's always been drawn to the thicker tomes on the library shelves.

His bed for the night is unpleasantly close to the bathroom, and Leo can only hope that the shelter doesn't get too full. Knowing his luck, he'll get puked on by a drunk again. It's never particularly fun being someone's vomit catcher, and he can only hope that the drunks make it, or that there aren't many of them.

He heads to the showers quickly. Communal bathing has never been his thing. He's a pretty private guy, and despite his preference for men, there's rarely a guy from the streets that catches his eye. Once or twice, he's scored a hook up in one of these places with some pretty young thing that's just run away from home, but on the whole, Leo's sexual exploits have come with some cold hard cash to accompany the warm hard flesh. There's one other guy in the showers. Thin, bruises all up his back, tattoos all down his arms. His movements are slow and cautious, but jerky as though he's worried about being so exposed. Leo ignores him, and washes quickly. Even if he's not alone, the water feels good.

You learn to live with being filthy on the streets, but when you can, there's nothing like being clean. Hot running water is a luxury that Leo would revel in if he were ever a scurrier. He'd take hour-long showers if he could. It's not a good idea here though. Naked is vulnerable, and vulnerable is the first thing you have to learn to not be on the streets. By the time Leo's done washing and dressing, the other guy has finished up, dressed, and is standing in front of a mirror, trimming his beard with a pair of clippers.

"Your nose okay?" Leo doesn't come too close, isn't entirely sure that Neymar won't swing for him again.

"It's fine... Are..." Neymar's reflection closes its eyes, and a soft sigh escapes him. "I'm sorry I freaked out." He offers instead of whatever his question was going to be.

"Hey, don't worry about it." Leo takes a step closer, and Neymar nods, turning to face him. "You look like shit." It's not a particularly pleasant remark, but it is an accurate one. Neymar looks awful, his warm brown skin is a strangely sallow shade, deep bruises from a lack of sleep under his eyes, with his hair still damp and plastered to his skull, he looks terrible.

"I've been awake." Neymar shrugs, and Leo squints at him, not too sure how to answer. "I'm sorry I hit you... I just... Are you okay? Have you been alright?" Neymar's fingers start twisting up in the ends of his sleeves, and Leo nods, staring at him critically.

"You've not been eating have you?" He looks thinner, and without all of his layers, his naked body had looked so thin. Now that Leo knows what Neymar looks like naked he can't shake the image. If it had just been some random it wouldn't be in Leo's mind. He'd have filed it away as another thin homeless guy with a nice ass, but now it's Neymar's thin body, it's Neymar's nice ass to go along with his untold, but undoubtedly interesting story. Neymar is a mystery Leo wants to get to the bottom of, and it surprises him.

"I eat." Neymar mutters defensively, his arms wrapping around himself. "You gonna trim that beast on your face?"

"Gonna shave it off." Leo laughs, rubbing his hand over the beard on his chin. "It's too fucking ginger for my liking." Neymar smiles at him, and turns back to the mirror, tactically moving over, leaving enough room beside him should Leo wish to stand by him. It's an invitation that Leo takes, foaming his face, and shaving quickly.

"You look so young like that." Neymar's voice is husky but soft, and Leo turns to him, a towel pressed to his newly beard-less chin.

"I'm not that old... Twenty-six." Leo smiles, and Neymar nods vaguely, his fingers once more twisting in his sleeves. "How old are you?" It's an easy question, but Neymar pales. His hand, still tangled in his sleeve, comes up to press against the scar on his forehead.

"I... I don't know." He mutters, and Leo frowns at him, gently taking hold of his wrist, moving slowly, giving Neymar every opportunity to stop him as he draws Neymar's hand from his face, and stares at the scar. It's slightly raised, and starkly white. An old deep wound.

"What happened to you?" Leo trails a finger above the scar, not touching, not daring to for fear of Neymar swinging for him again. Neymar steps back, shaking his head, and gathers the few things he has. "Hey... Don't vanish on me again." Leo calls to him as he moves to leave the showering room. "I missed you." Leo shrugs, and Neymar stares at him in disbelief.

"Sure you did." Neymar scoffs, and Leo comes over to him quickly, his paltry possessions tucked under his arm.

"I did... I got used to your forgetful ass." Leo misses out the fact that now he's seen it, there's more to Neymar's ass than being forgetful. For all his skinniness, Neymar has a nice ass, softly curved, firm, pert. The sort of ass that Leo knows would be a good fuck.

"Sure." Neymar scoffs once more, and leaves the showering room, making his way into the sleeping area. "The bed by me is free... It's further from the toilet." He doesn't look back at Leo, but Leo thinks he knows that he'll follow. A bed in a better location is a good idea, further from the toilets greatly reduces the likelihood of being puked on.

Leo lies on the bed beside Neymar's, surreptitiously watching him settle under his blanket, getting ready to sleep, his back turned to Leo. It's stupid, but Leo doesn't want him facing the opposite way. He wants to lie facing Neymar, and try to fool himself that he's not in a shelter. He wants to try and picture his scurrier house, and his never-ending supply of hot water. He wants to imagine knowing the story behind that scar on Neymar's brow, he wants to imagine how Neymar would look if he wasn't so thin, if he was well fed, fucked out and curled up to sleep in a soft warm bed wrapped in Leo's arms.

"Hey Ney?" Leo calls softly after a little while. The room is slowly filling with other people, their voices low and rough, occasional loud hacking coughs interrupting the hush that's filled the space, so he pitches his voice quietly, hoping Neymar will hear.

"Uh-huh?" Neymar turns around, and his face appears from under his blanket, in the dim light the pale scar, and deep pink lips are about all Leo can really see.

"Goodnight." Leo smirks, and Neymar snorts, tugging his blanket around himself tighter, but not turning away from Leo again.

"G'night, Leo." A sly smile spreads over Neymar's lips, and Leo stares at him, willing him to explain how he remembered Leo's name, but somehow completely content with at least being remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed - Please review. A few kind words are an elixir to my weary soul.


	3. Leo & Neymar

There are few guarantees in life. There's very little you can say is certain. In fact the only certain thing is uncertainty, and it's something that Leo has always taken comfort in. Guarantees make you complacent and complacent makes you lazy, and lazy makes you dead on the streets. There’s no handout for the lazy. Scurriers see the homeless as living on handouts, and whilst in some ways that is the case, there's nothing free on the streets. A trip to a soup kitchen, or to a shelter is fraught with hazards. There are dangers on the streets that most people don't see. Even if you make it to somewhere the white whales are engaging in their charity, there's no guarantee that there'll be charity for you. First come, first served is the law of charity. Survival of the fittest is the law of the streets.

The scurriers live lives with guarantees. They have security in their own little worlds. Worlds with food, with warmth, with shelter. Their problems are small. He's heard their complaints his whole life, has heard them change, or at least expand to include new and exciting minor niggles. He's heard everything from whining about heating systems being too complicated to understand, to windowless bathrooms. Having a heating system, a bathroom, windowless or otherwise, isn't something Leo's ever experience. He can't remember a time when he'd ever lived somewhere. He can't remember ever having a home. The biggest problem that the women sitting near him, in that they're in a coffee shop, and he's huddled outside, face is that there's no free wifi, and their shoes aren't as comfortable as they'd looked in the store. Such minor things to find to complain about, but they're scurriers, they have guarantees, they have certainty, and Leo doesn't.

The major complaint of most scurriers is that they're bored. All their money, all their comforts, all their guarantees don't bring them the happiness they seek. It's the problem of needs once more. They have everything they need, so they seek out something else to satisfy themselves with, never realizing that they're searching for something so fleeting that it's impossible to attain. For Leo, boredom isn't a problem. Boredom isn't a luxury he's afforded. Even in these moments when most could find the time to be bored, Leo fills his mind with thinking. He's of the opinion that most of the scurriers don't think. He's sure that they have thoughts, but he's also sure that they don't contemplate anything of note. They fill their heads with empty white noise to stop themselves from thinking too much. They worship at alters of celebrity so they don't have time to consider the meaning and value of their lives. Lives that are wasted on self-indulgent boredom. Scurriers are comfortable, and comfort breeds apathy. Scurrying breeds nothing but death.

  
"Hey." Neymar's voice is a surprise, a welcome surprise. After the night in the shelter, a night Leo had spent mostly watching Neymar sleep, he realized how pretty the boy is with his long eyelashes brushed against his cheeks and his pink plump lips asking to be kissed, and the now known lines of his body, contemplating the curious beauty of him as a whole, Neymar had vanished once more. He's been gone from Leo's life for a week, and now he's returned, looking as tired as ever, holding two cups of something steamingly hot in his hands.

"Thanks." Leo takes the offered cup, and Neymar sits beside him, sipping at the steaming hot liquid. A silence falls over them, one that Leo would like to break by asking Neymar where he's been, but he's not sure that he'd get an answer. In all honesty, Leo isn't sure if he'd get anything other than a fist to the jaw for enquiring after Neymar's business. He's a secretive man, and Leo isn't sure if that's because Neymar simply doesn't remember where he's been, or if it's something else entirely.

"You thinking about anything interesting?" Neymar sounds like he actually is interested in Leo's thoughts, but they're the only things Leo truly owns, and he's possessive of them. He's not inclined to share his contemplations on the human condition with the most contradictory creature he's ever met. He's not sure how to classify Neymar. He refuses to fit into a nice, neat category, and it frustrates Leo. Neymar seems to live to defy classification, to defy the order Leo has given his world. Despite the frustration Neymar causes, Leo isn't inclined to give up trying though. He's never met someone he couldn't work out, and he doesn't mean to start with Neymar. Given enough time he'll slot Neymar into a classification, all it'll take is time, and time is something Leo has plenty of.

"Nothing much." He shrugs, and Neymar snorts at him disbelievingly.

"You look like you've got the weight of the World on your shoulders." Neymar very slightly nudges him with his shoulder, and Leo glances over at him, properly looking at him for the first time since he showed back up. There's a bruise on Neymar's left eye, deep purple, and sore looking, his lip's swollen. Leo stares at him, wondering where the injuries came from, but knowing better than to ask.

"You look like it crushed you." Leo takes a drink from his coffee, feeling it scalding its way down his gullet. There's something reassuring about the pain of the too hot liquid burning him from the inside, something that reminds him that he's alive.

"Hmm... Maybe a little." Neymar sighs, and closes his eyes, his head resting against the wall behind them. "You wrote your name up by mine on the wall." He says suddenly. "It’s how I remembered it, in case you were wondering." A smile spreads over his lips, and Leo can't help but laugh at him. He had written his name there. The morning after Neymar had beaten him in the park, he'd gone to the spot by the subway hoping that Neymar would be there, but he wasn't. An old discarded marker pen was though, and Leo, in a fit of pique, had scrawled his name up beside Neymar's, claiming the spot as his own.

"So... That wall is how you remember things?" Leo chuckles, Neymar's laugh is little more than a puff of air, but it's a pleasant sound all the same, one Leo would like to hear again.

"I remember things better when I can see them... I don't know why, I just do." There's something off about Neymar's tone, something distractedly miserable, and Leo downs the last of his coffee, getting to his feet.

"C'mon." He offers a hand down to Neymar, but it's ignored as he stands, pointlessly dusting his pants off.

"Where we going?" Neymar finishes his own coffee, and tosses the empty cup into the trash, taking Leo's and doing the same with it.

"Somewhere else... It's too cold here." Leo starts walking aimlessly. It is cold, and sitting on the ground wasn't helping, though he's not sure walking will help much either. It's depressingly windy, and walking is exercise Neymar doesn't much need, he's thin enough, Leo's thin enough too. They should be conserving the little energy they do have, but sitting gets old when you can't lose yourself in your own musings, so walking is as good as any other pastime.

They wander about for hours, pointlessly spending energy they don't have, and wind up at the back of the restaurant where they'd helped unload a delivery week ago. The man who owns the restaurant had popped his head out of the back, and greeted Neymar, and by proxy Leo, as old friends. He'd even gone as far as to pull Neymar into a hug, then held him out at arm's length as though surveying a long missed old friend. He talked to them for a while, rambling about business, answering the few questions about when he might need some more help vaguely, then gave them some calzone, and a large bottle of milk that was close to its expiry date, leaving them with a cheerful goodbye.

"We should head somewhere to eat..." Leo starts walking, and Neymar follows along by him in silence. There's something on Neymar's mind, and as much as Leo wants to pick his brain to try and solve the riddle that is Neymar, he knows that asking won't get him much of anywhere. Neymar is the sort of man who has to trust you to share what's on his mind, and Leo supposes he is too. His thoughts, his past, his future, those are the only things that are Leo's, and he's not inclined to share them lightly. The few things you own you have to cling to when you've got nothing of any substance, and Leo clings to his thoughts desperately, the only thing he holds more dear is his trust, but Neymar's slowly earning that.

"Do you ever think about dying?" It's an unexpected question that Neymar delivers without looking up from the ground, his voice soft, barely audible over the wind, and Leo turns to him.

"What?" Considering death isn't something Leo does often, and he's not entirely sure he can pull off a more eloquent answer at such short notice. Death is a subject he doesn't like to consider, not when he's so fixated on avoiding it.

"Death... Do you ever think about it?" Neymar repeats a little louder, tugging the collar of his coat up some more. He looks cold, even colder than Leo feels, and there's an unexpected stab of concern in Leo's gut for him.

"Not really" Leo answers honestly, turning into the park. There's no point in them wandering around in this wind any more. They've got some food, and something to drink. They may as well head to the lean-to by the dumpsters, and call it a night. They clamber into the little shelter, Leo against the cold metal, Neymar closer to the draughty wooden wall, and sit staring into the darkness.

"You spend a lot of time thinking, but you don't consider dying?" Neymar's voice is hushed out of habit. Being quiet is second nature on the streets. You don't want to draw undue attention to yourself, especially if you're on your own. Neymar has clearly been on his own until Leo forced his way into Neymar's routine, but then Leo had been on his own until then too. He's part of Neymar's routine for a reason though. Neymar has a good system, and Leo's taking advantage of that. The fact that Neymar's an intriguing, and pretty, riddle is a bonus. Nothing more, but certainly nothing less.

"I worry more about living, Neymar." Leo unwraps one of the calzone they'd been gifted by the restaurant owner. It's not hot anymore, but it's heavy with some sort of filling, and smells good. When he breaks it in half, handing half of it to Neymar, the cheese inside is still stretches a good long way before it breaks, and the delicious scent increases. Neymar takes a bite, his eyes drifting closed. "It's good?" The first bite Leo takes has him wanting another, but he's careful to savor the food in his mouth. He's not eaten something that tastes this good in a long time. It might be cold, but it's filled with meat, cheese, and the most amazing tomato sauce.

"You worry about living, but don't think of dying... Kind of weird don't you think?" Neymar seems to be looking to have this conversation whether Leo wants to or not. It's not that death isn't an interesting topic; it's just that the mysteries of life are more interesting to Leo.

"Not really... Dying is inevitable, and for us, living is a more important struggle, wouldn't you say?" Leo opens the milk, taking a swig, and setting the bottle between them.

"I guess... I think about dying." Neymar takes another bite of his calzone, chewing slowly. "I think I might have come close and... It plays on my mind sometimes." He shrugs, taking another bite of food.

  
"Your scar?" Neymar nods in response to Leo's question, leaving Leo with the problem of wondering what to say next. It's an open invitation to ask more questions about that scar, but the right question isn't coming to Leo easily. The wrong question will have Neymar clamming up, of that, Leo's certain, but the right one is elusive. "Do you remember how you got it?"

"Kind of... I remember there being a lot of blood, and people standing around me... Then a whole lot of nothing." Neymar takes the milk, drinking slowly. "I think it was an accident... A car maybe? I don't know." He shrugs, and Leo waits to see if he'll add anything to his explanation. "I woke up in a hospital, and couldn't remember anything." He sighs, his eyes drifting closed, a forlorn look on his face.

"Nothing?" Leo prompts. It's not quite the great reveal he'd been hoping for; it's a story that leaves him with more questions than answers. Even with the answer of how Neymar got that scar, he remains a riddle.

  
"They had to teach me how to use a toilet, Leo." Neymar snaps, setting the milk down firmly, and biting at his calzone once more.

"Really?" The extent of Neymar's memory loss is surprising, but the scar is big. The trauma that caused it must have been extensive. It's probably a miracle that Neymar's still alive. He really must have come close to death the day he received that wound.

"Really... They said it was something to do with oxygen getting to my brain, and damage from the accident... I..." A frown settles on Neymar's lips, one hand coming up to rub at his forehead. "It hurts sometimes... It makes me shaky sometimes. I can't remember things all that well... I don't even know my birthday." He laughs, but it's tinged with a slight mania, as though some part of Neymar was reliving an old, familiar mental breakdown. "All I know is my name." He smiles slightly, and finishes his half of the calzone. "I don’t know if I’m Neymar anymore after the accident." His arms wrap around himself and Leo fidgets, torn between comforting, and asking more questions. There are so many he wants to ask, but they're fighting for the right to be asked first, and comforting isn't something Leo's had a lot of experience with.

"Wasn't there someone there with you? Someone to tell you who you were?" The question comes more easily, more naturally than giving comfort ever would. Leo watches an odd little expression flit over Neymar's face, something at once hopefully, but utterly lost, and completely miserable.

"Sometimes I remember faces... At least I think I do." He sighs, and scrubs a hand over his face. "I think about it sometimes when I'm begging. I wonder if any of the people walking past knew me... If they could tell me who I am... Who I was." Neymar's eyes fall closed once more, and he shakes his head. "It's stupid..."

"No." Leo moves a little closer, not really sure what he intends to do, but there's an utterly foreign part of him that's calling out to comfort Neymar in his distress. "It's understandable that you'd want to know who you were."

"I'm never sure if the faces I remember are from the hospital or before or if I just made them up... It doesn't matter much either way, I guess." He laughs bleakly, and Leo finds himself staring at Neymar's face, staring into his eyes, caught by the depth of the pain in them.

"Why doesn't it matter?" The whisper that question is delivered in sounds far too loud to Leo's ears, as if it's breaking some kind of odd spell with its unruly volume.

"Whoever I was clearly wasn't a good enough person for anyone to want to stick around him." The smile that stretches over Neymar's lips is brutal. A smile shouldn't look so much like the physical manifestation of a wound to the soul, but this one does.

"You're a good person, Neymar." Leo mutters, his fingers twitching with the urge to pull Neymar close and hold him. He looks vulnerable in that moment, and as much as vulnerability is a lethal liability on the streets, Leo wants to protect Neymar from his right then.

"No... No, I'm not." Neymar laughs again, and lies down, settling to sleep. "But you do what you gotta do to survive, right?" He smiles over at Leo, and Leo nods vaguely.

"Yeah... You gotta survive, and sometimes surviving isn't easy." Leo glances around the little lean-to, and fishes the ratty balled up blankets from where they're wedged between two of the dumpsters. He drapes one of them over Neymar, and huddles up in the other.

"What have you done to survive?" Neymar sounds like he's drifting off to sleep, in the darkness his features aren't visibly, even the starkly white scar is hidden beneath his beanie.

"Same thing we've all done... Stole some shit, sold some shit, myself included." Leo laughs, and Neymar snorts, squirming slightly to make himself more comfortable as he lies staring up at Leo.

"I've only ever sold myself... It's where I go when I'm not here." There's a heavy pause, and Leo considers what Neymar just said. "Well... G'night." Leo's not happy with Neymar deciding to call the conversation quits. It feels like it's just begun, but there's not too much point in arguing with him. So he settles to lay on the ground near Neymar, but far away enough to not touch him in his sleep, and considers what he'd learned about the other man so far.

The law of the streets is survival of the fittest. Leo knows that to be a fact, but there are some things he wishes he didn't know. Survival at all costs, that's what Neymar is doing to himself. A week with some grubby businessman who wants a bit of rough as a pet. It's not a huge surprise that Neymar would stoop to whoring himself out, Leo's done it more times that he cares to remember, but it's strangely upsetting that Neymar has to do it too. It sullies Neymar in a way Leo doesn't like. The idea of someone touching Neymar for any reason other than appreciation doesn't sit well with him. Neymar's a creature of riddles to be admired and contemplated, to be touched with the care and concern that something so intriguing deserves. A man who pays to indulge in Neymar has no business being near him. A man who pays for Neymar won't understand the mysteries of him, and even if that man did understand, there's no way he'd put the effort required into appreciating them.

"I can feel you staring at me." Neymar mutters, and Leo laughs at him."Why?" Neymar's eyes are on him, Leo can feel the weight of them, and it's too much to bear.

"Why what?" He closes his eyes, and hears Neymar moving closer, feels him settle down beside Leo, pressed against his side.

"Why are you staring at me?" Neymar's entirely too close. Even through the many layers of fabric, Leo can feel the warmth of his thin body. The mental image of Neymar's naked form asserts itself in Leo's mind, demanding his full attention.

"You're interesting." Leo offers vaguely, and tries to back away, but there's nowhere to go. He's pressed against the side of the dumpster, the plywood, and space, of the other side of the shack is behind Neymar. He's caught between a rock and a hard place, with not options but to let Neymar trap him where he is.

"Interesting?" Neymar laughs, his head resting on Leo's chest, his arms snaking about his waist, making himself comfortable half on top of Leo. "You're warm." He yawns, and Leo lies rigidly still beneath him.

  
"You can't sleep like this... You'll punch me." Leo doesn't move Neymar off of him though. There's something nice about Neymar using his chest as a pillow, something alien but pleasant about it.

  
"I won't, I promise. I'll know I fell asleep on you, so it'll be alright." Neymar yawns again, and nuzzles against Leo. "Relax. Sleep. It'll be okay."

"Better be." Leo lets his arms settle lightly around Neymar, feeling him relax even more, his body pliant in Leo's hold. "Your kicks hurt, I don't want another one." Neymar laughs softly, but doesn't answer Leo, instead it seems like he's fallen asleep. As much as he'd like to, instinct keeps Leo from pressing a kiss to Neymar's head. Lying like this is intimate, but it's also rational. It's bitterly cold, and body heat keeps you warm. A kiss is also intimate, but it would be nothing more than foolish sentimentality. There's no real place for sentiment on the streets. It's a place where the soft, tender emotions that scurriers get to indulge in are denied, because they're a weakness. You can't have anything that could be used against you on the streets. There's no bigger target to those who would want to hurt you, than the person you're sentimental over. Yet there's no denying to himself, that Leo would like to kiss Neymar, he'd like to be sentimental over him, and there's no denying that that makes Neymar a far bigger threat than Leo's comfortable with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, reviews and kudos are appreciated. Even a few words keep me motivate.


	4. Leo & Neymar

Beauty is a strange concept. It's something the scurriers consider almost every second of their lives, but seem to miss the point of. Spending so much of his life on the streets has given Leo ample opportunity to observe the shifting trends of what is, and isn't beautiful in the minds of scurriers. People watching is a sport he's well versed in, and the longer he competes in it, the more he realises that people are becoming more and more the same. Just as cities are being homogenized into identical places, people are becoming identical. Beauty, true beauty, is something that scurriers will never understand. Beauty should be something that it hurts to look at. Beauty should be something that when you're in its presence you're not sure what to do. Beauty should be something that some people are confused, disgusted, or scared of. There is no universal beauty. Anything, anyone who everyone can agree on as beautiful simply isn't. It's nothing more than an accepted level of pleasant. Universally accepted beauty is bland, banal, and uninteresting. It's not beauty, it's wallpaper. Real beauty should make you uncomfortable, real beauty should make you shy away from it, part in awe, part in fear. Based on the way the homeless are taking a step back, the way they're are standing watching from behind each other, or trees, leaves Leo thinking that this fight is a thing of true beauty.

It had started when some drunk, rich scurriers had made a comment on finding the lean-to. The flimsy walls had been kicked in, and a few standard insults had been thrown that Neymar had taken exception to. Leo knows from experience how much a kick from Neymar hurts, and the fact that it'd taken the one scurrier who had thrown the first insult a good thirty seconds to stand once more shows that he knows how much they hurt too. It's five on two, and there's a part of Leo that thinks this isn't fair to the scurriers. Neymar fights like a dervish, everywhere at once, and Leo's well practiced in avoiding getting his ass kicked. He's been in more than his fair share of fights; he knows how to handle himself. These scurriers had clearly expected some easy quarry to end their night of drinking; it's not fair to them that they chose so very badly. Between Neymar's kicks, and Leo's fists, these drunk scurriers don't stand much of a chance.

It takes maybe five minutes to render them incapable of sustaining the fight, four of them slinking off, the audience of homeless that had crowded around trailing them. There's no doubt in Leo's mind that those four will find themselves relieved of most of their possessions by the dispersed crowd. The fifth is lying in a heap of drying blood, Neymar standing over him, his eyes narrowed, thin chest heaving slightly.

"We should move him." Neymar nudges the unconscious scurrier with his foot, and Leo nods vaguely. Leaving the scurrier where he is isn't a good idea. It's too close to the lean-to, that they'll need to rebuild for now, but move tomorrow, because now the position is compromised. Once the night scurriers find you, they will hound you. They'll keep coming back, again, and again until they've exhausted all possible entertainment opportunities, and Leo doesn't doubt that this group would come back with their friends to try and kick the shit out of Neymar and him.

"I'll check his pockets first, then you grab his arms, and I'll get the feet." Leo walks over to the scurrier.

"No." Neymar bats Leo away, his expression hard and tight.

"You wanna check him yourself?" Leo laughs, straightening up to meet Neymar's eyes easily. "Go ahead, but we don't have all night."

"We're not robbing him." Neymar moves to stand by the scurrier's head and nods down to his feet.

"Like hell we aren't!" Leo scoffs, moving to search through the unconscious man's pockets. Neymar's foot makes a swipe for Leo's hand, missing, but just barely. "Hey! C'mon, it's not like he's gonna miss a few bucks."

"We're better than that." Neymar sniffs. "We're not robbing him. We already beat him, that's enough, Leo." Neymar snaps and Leo sighs at him, but does move down to grab the scurrier's ankles, and haul his lower half up off the ground. Neymar takes the man's wrists, lifting the rest of the man's body up into the air slightly. Nobility is all well and good, it's plenty nice, but this noble spark merely makes Neymar even more of a riddle to Leo. Neymar's a white whale trapped in the situation of a homeless man. Yet, there's a mean streak in him that makes it possible for him to thrive in a World like this. There are too many contradictions to Neymar, too many parts that make up the whole that just shouldn't fit together, but they do. "Thank you." Neymar murmurs softly, and Leo glances up at him. There's something gentle on Neymar's face, some kind of sweet expression that fills Leo with a trickle of unexpected warmth.

"Yeah, well... Whatever, let's just get him outta here. I wanna get some more sleep tonight." Leo starts walking, and Neymar nods, following Leo's lead. They dump the man on the pavement outside of the park, leaving him propped up against a wall. There's a sluggish trail of blood from his broken nose, and an impressive bruise taking up most of his face.

"You okay?" Neymar asks suddenly, and Leo turns to him. The bruises that had been on Neymar are still there, but to accompany them there's now a set of grazed knuckles, and a manic grin. The thrill of a fight suits Neymar incredibly well, adrenaline brings out the fire in him, and in the harsh orange glare of the streetlight, he's breath-taking in his beauty.

"I'm good... Why? Don't I look it?" Leo smirks, hiding a wince as it makes what feels like a split lip making itself known.

"No... You look like shit." Neymar laughs and Leo shakes his head. Despite the instinct to, he doesn't duck when Neymar comes closer, and swipes some tissue paper pulled from his pocket over Leo's cheek. "You've got some blood... I don't think it's yours though." Neymar licks the paper, and swipes Leo's cheek again, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "There... That's better." He smiles awkwardly, his hand still against Leo's cheek, the tissue feels a little rough, but there's a spark of electricity where Neymar's fingers are touching Leo's skin, an unfamiliar tingling that Leo finds he more than likes.

"Thanks... I don't have anything to clean you up with... Even if I did, I don't think it'd help. You need a shower." Leo smiles and Neymar laughs, a deep genuine laugh that lingers in Leo's mind as they walk back into the park.

"We should move on." Neymar mutters once they get back by the dumpsters, the sheets of plywood are surprisingly still there, as are the ratty blankets. Leo had expected them to have been stolen, and added to someone else's horde. It might be that the other homeless are still picking over the four scurriers, or it might be that they're too scared to come back to the scene of the beating. It's hard to tell, but Leo supposes it doesn't matter much either way.

"In the morning." Leo rubs his eyes, yawning. Neymar starts reassembling something like a shelter, propping the wood up against the metal, Leo helping him eventually. "Fuck, I'm tired." He feels worn out, as well as beaten. Tomorrow they're finding a shelter for the night. He wants something like a good night's sleep and a shower tomorrow. A shower where he's going to spend some time lingering over Neymar's naked body. He wants a better look, wants to see if there's evidence of other people's hands on Neymar beyond his face, wants to try and work out if the bruises on his face are from his clients or from fights. He wants to check Neymar over now if he's honest, but it's too dark, too cold, and too public. A shelter might not offer any more privacy, but it offers the illusion of it, and Leo intends to grab that with both hands. After tonight, after this fight, he's grimly aware that he's attached, that he's sentimental over Neymar. After tonight, he's decided that Neymar is his. Not his friend, not his travelling companion, not his riddle to be solved, just plain his. Neymar's dangerous when he has to be, sweet when he can be, but always interesting. Leo isn't letting him go. He's going to cling to Neymar, not just for his system and his connections, but for him. There's something about him that keeps Leo's attention, something that keeps Neymar in the back of Leo's mind. It's something that Leo can't deny to himself, he needs to keep Neymar around, and he's going to do everything he can to keep him.

"Yeah, well... To bed then?" Neymar waves his hand at the little makeshift shack, and Leo gets in, squinting in the darkness to watch Neymar pull the last sheet of ply behind him, sealing the little hut up.

"Hey... C'mere." Leo holds his arms out to Neymar, sighing contentedly when Neymar settles against him once more, his head on Leo's chest, the ratty blankets wrapped around them both.

The night is a dangerous time for those who live on the streets. At night, you're asleep, and asleep you're vulnerable. As you dream your body is open to attack, unprotected by your watchful eyes against those who wish to harm you, and they find an opening under the cover of darkness. Night is the abyss, and the scurriers that lurk around the edges, peeking in tentatively are a threat. Leo's always thought he sat in the abyss alone, that his smirk in shadows was the only one, but it's not. Curled up in his arms once more is one who wears a Cheshire Cat grin with him in the depths of the abyss. Neymar's a good man at his core, but over that core are layers of darkness, his light carefully wrapped up in thick shadows to keep it safe. With Neymar, Leo's a little safer, Neymar proved that most eloquently tonight. There's not usually safety in numbers for groups of men on the streets, especially groups of just two. It makes you more of a target, but with Neymar by his side, Leo's sure there's not much of anyone who'd come off better than them in a fight.

"You're staring at me... I can feel it." Neymar mutters and Leo chuckles at him, smiling when Neymar shifts so that his face is turned up to Leo. "Why?"

"Why what?" Leo laughs. There's an impossible to resist urge to touch Neymar's face, Leo's finger trailing over his features gently. Beneath the dirt, beneath the exhaustion, Neymar is beautiful. Not the homogenized beauty of the scurriers, but something truly beautiful, something that some people could never appreciate because they don't have the eyes to see.

"Why are you staring at me?" Neymar's eyebrow twitches when Leo's finger ghosts over it, his lips quirking in a half-smile when that finger trails over them.

"You're interesting." Leo smiles, parroting back his words from earlier in the night. Words said before Leo had come to the conclusion that he's keeping Neymar, that Neymar is his now. His hand moves to the back of Neymar's neck, resting there, but not drawing him any closer. As sure as Leo is that Neymar would allow a kiss, Leo doesn't want to be presumptuous. The decision to kiss is one Leo will let Neymar make. He thinks it's inevitable, but he's not going to rush it, time is something he has more than enough of after all.

"Interesting, hmm? Second time you've told me that tonight." Neymar's voice is soft, almost breathy as he moves closer to Leo, their lips almost touching. Leo smiles at him, pleased, and a little relieved, that Neymar remembers their earlier conversation. It's always a concern that Neymar will forget things, especially things that Leo thinks are more important than they first seem, and with Neymar Leo's beginning to think that everything is more important that it seems at first glance. "You keep telling me that, and I might remember it." Neymar murmurs and Leo lets his eyes slide half-closed, watching Neymar through his lashes. It's hard to see him in the darkness, but Leo doesn't think he needs to be able to see Neymar to know what's coming next. There's only one of two ways for the tension between them to be relieved, and Leo's hoping that Neymar will choose the most enjoyable of options.

"I'll write it on your wall." Leo's words are barely out before Neymar kisses him, a kiss that had been intended to be light and short, but that Leo deepens hungrily. He's not kissed someone in a long time, and even if Neymar doesn't taste particularly great, dental hygiene isn't something you can be too picky about on the streets, the kiss itself is incredible. There's a well of passion, of fire inside Neymar, and Leo can feel it in that kiss, can feel it in the way Neymar's tongue dances with his, the way his fingers had slide into Leo's hair, the way his body moves over Leo's own. Neymar is a riddle, a mystery, a liability, a threat, but more than all of these things, to Leo, he is beautiful, and more importantly Neymar is his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Let me know what you think. 
> 
> If you like my writing style please check out my other neymessi fanfic 'In Bloom'. I bet you will enjoy reading it.


	5. Leo & Neymar

There's one advantage to being homeless in a world populated by scurriers, but it's an advantage with a double-edge. Scurriers are people watchers as much as Leo is, but they only see the people they want to, those that don't fit their worldview are invisible. Scurriers look up to those who are better than them, wishing for their money, their looks, their lives, and look down on everyone else. There's only one reason to see a homeless person, and that's to reassure themselves that they're at least better off than someone. They foster their own comfort by ignoring the discomfort of others, by making everything about them, and how it fits into their narrative. Most homeless are completely invisible to scurriers, and invisibility makes life a lot easier in some ways.

In many ways, the homeless are similar to scurriers in how they see each other. They see those who are lower on the food chain as prey, but inside every homeless person, there's a hint of white whale. There is solidarity in shared destitution. The story of the homeless is shared, there's a connection, grim and dire between them all. No matter where you go, if you're one of them, they'll find you, and even if twenty spit on you, one will help. There's nothing like that hint of white whale in the world of the scurriers. There's no fellowship among them, no community. It's a world of individuals bound by nothing but their shared belief that they are the most important character in everyone's story, not just their own.

Leo isn't the sort of person who's ever sought out the companionship of his peers. He's never felt the pull of another person drawing him into their orbit, but with Neymar, it's there, inevitable, alluring and irresistible. Neymar's is a tale that Leo feels like he's only skim reading though. He doesn't know any of the background, all he has are the cliff-notes, but then that's all Neymar has. He can't imagine how Neymar must have felt when he woke up after his accident. It's impossible for Leo to try and picture waking up, and knowing nothing. He can't begin to fathom the depth of frustration Neymar must have felt, must still feel. A hole where the record of your life should be, pages covered in white out, and scribbles instead of the words and pictures of your memories. He can't begin to understand what Neymar goes through, he can't being understand what it must be like having that emptiness, but he wants try, if only so Leo can know the whole story of who Neymar is.

In the light of dawn, they moved on, carrying the plywood, and blankets from the park, seeking out another quite spot in a different oasis of greenery in the fetid grey desert of the city.

"Here?" Leo asks once they're in a new spot in a different park. It's sheltered, thick trees all around, and a solid wall covered in moss on one side. It looks pretty secure, and Leo thinks it'll be a decent place to build their little shack.

"It'll do... I'm not sure on escape routes, but it should be pretty dark at night, so we should be safe enough." Neymar mumbles, setting down the sheet of ply he's carrying. The invisibility of being homeless had let them pass through the scurriers without too much notice. One or two had given them some strange looks, but on the whole, they hadn't cared about what the two homeless men carrying wood were up to. No one had time to spare in their far more busy, far more interesting lives to puzzle over their actions, and Leo's grateful for that. Answering questions to satisfy scurriers is generally difficult, and stressful. They think they're helping, but really, their false concern is nothing more than humbly showing off how much better they are. 'Oh gosh, I could never imagine' is one phrase Leo despises above all others. The one phrase that drives home how much lower he is than the scurriers, how much more worthless he is to them, because they can't even bring themselves to empathize with him. Empathy is something scurriers have no time for, understanding how other people live means nothing to them. They put all their energies into themselves, into their own personal epic, so understanding, having simple empathy for someone else's tragedy is beyond them. That's the difference between Leo and scurriers, they don't care to understand, and there's nothing Leo wants more than understanding.

"You've been thinking." Leo comments as they start construction, using string and duct tape to secure the sheets of wood into a rudimentary shelter. Neymar glances up at him briefly before turning back to his work.

"Yeah... But what else is there to do out here?" He laughs, and Leo frowns down at the wood in front of him. Neymar's right, there's not much of anything to do on the streets but think. "You wanna know what I've been thinking about?" Neymar asks with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I wouldn't have mentioned it if I didn't." Leo grins over to him, and Neymar nods, dragging the next sheet of wood over to the construction.

"I was thinking about last night... About the fight... About what happened after." Neymar sounds thoughtful.

"You kissed me." Leo comments mildly, helping Neymar secure the sheet of ply in place.

"I did." Neymar nods, and turns to Leo. "Was that okay?" Leo chuckles at him, and cups his cheek, stroking the stubble covering it. "Leo, you're staring at me." Neymar's eyes drift half-closed, watching Leo with wary laziness.

"Yeah... You're interesting." Leo mutters, leaning down to kiss Neymar. Just as the kiss last night had been intended to be light, but got sidetracked, so too is this one, Neymar's hands tangling in Leo's lank, greasy hair, tugging lightly on the strands.

"So, interesting really means I wanna fuck you?" Neymar chuckles, and Leo smirks at him, his hands still resting on Neymar's cheeks, holding his head in place.

"Interesting means that I think you're interesting, Ney." Leo shrugs, and Neymar turns his eyes downwards, his shoulders slumping a little. He's clearly taken Leo's words in the wrong way, because Leo fully intends to fuck Neymar as soon as possible, and then keep him. Neymar is his, he's not letting go, and he's going to have Neymar in every way possible. "More than interesting to fuck once, more than interesting enough to fuck repeatedly. You're interesting because you're a mystery." Leo laughs, and Neymar tries to shake his head, but it's useless as Leo's still holding it in place.

"I'm a mystery to myself too." Neymar mumbles and Leo strokes a thumb over one of his eyebrows, drawing Neymar's attention back to him.

"It's always there, huh?" Leo asks, letting go of Neymar's head to pull his body closer, holding him tightly.

"What is?" Neymar murmurs. He's almost snuggling against Leo, his hands sneaking under the top most layer of Leo's clothes to be closer to his skin.

"Your lost memories... The blank pages." Leo closes his eyes, and tries to imagine Neymar's cold fingers dancing over his bare skin, tries to conjure up how holding Neymar's thin body against his will feel without the thick barrier of their clothing.

"Blank pages?" Neymar sounds confused, but doesn't seem inclined to leave Leo's arms; seemingly, he's more than content to be embraced like this.

"In your story..." Leo laughs awkwardly, and Neymar shakes his head, pulling back from the embrace to look at Leo. "Everyone has a story, and your background is missing... It makes sense." Leo mutters defensively, and Neymar chuckles at him.

"A nice way of saying I'm fucked up, huh?" Neymar laughs, and moves away from Leo, returning to working on the shelter. "So... What's your back story?"

"My back story?" Leo rubs the back of his neck, licking his lips nervously. He's not one for talking about himself. His story is his, and he's selfish in sharing it, but Neymar's shared as much as he can, or at least as much as he says he can, so perhaps Leo can give a little in return. "Was born in Rosario, Argentina, my mother was a junkie whore." Leo holds a board in place as Neymar secures it, his attention on the thin piece of wood. "We jumped around from place to place in the city, dealer to pimp, and back again."

"Sounds shitty." Neymar mutters, and then swears under his breath, fishing another piece of string out of one of his pockets.

"Yeah... I drifted away from her when I was young, was put into care, fostered all over, and wound up here about two years ago." Leo's glossing over a lot of the story, but that's the gist of it. He doesn't think Neymar needs to hear all of the gory details, at least not yet. If this thing between them becomes something more, then Leo will share the full tale, the arrests, the beatings, the unpleasant incidents with unpleasant men in dark alleys, or dark dank bedrooms will all be dredged up from Leo's memories. There've been a lot of things that it would probably be good for Leo to forget, but forgetting isn't an option, and even if it were, he'd lose a part of himself. It might be the bad parts, but they'd still be parts of him, and he's no intention of letting them go.

"You've been in Barcelona for two years?" Neymar asks softly, and Leo nods. "Why have you stayed?"

"It's not been bad to me... It's given me you, if nothing else." Leo laughs, and Neymar snorts, finally finished with the shelter.

"You're laying a claim on me?" Neymar asks, his voice heavy with dubious amusement.

"I'm laying a claim on you." Leo repeats firmly, his hands catching Neymar's, tangling their fingers together.

"And if I object?" Neymar raises an eyebrow as he looks at Leo, a smirk on his lips.

"I'm still claiming you, still gonna have your back, still gonna think you're interesting, still gonna wanna fuck you." Leo returns that smirk, and Neymar shakes his head.

"I'm probably gonna forget all of that, you know that right?" He smiles slightly, his eyes narrowed, as he tugs one hand free from Leo's, and rubs at his scar.

"Yeah... I know." Leo kisses the knuckles of the hand he's still holding, and Neymar nods slightly. "Lie down, I'll go find something to eat, then we'll head out. I wanna grab a shelter tonight. We need a shower, and-"

"You wanna perv on me naked again?" Neymar laughs clambering into the little shack, lying down on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes.

"Yes." Leo laughs, and Neymar groans waving him away.

"There's a little bakery about a block and half to the left... The woman who owns it knows me... She might give you something if you tell her I sent you." He pulls his beanie off his head, and tosses it to Leo. "She gave it to me, she'll recognize it."

"She might think I stole it." Leo mutters, fingering the fabric of the hat. It's thick and more than likely nice and warm, a good gift to give a homeless man. He can only hope this lady is willing to be a white whale once more. "I guess I'll just have to hope she trusts me." Leo mutters as he leaves the little shack behind, heading out of the park in search of this bakery.

 

"Where did you get that?" A small woman standing outside of the bakery looks at Leo coolly, and he takes the beanie from his head, turning it over and over in his hands, watching her assess him with a calculating look in her eye.

"Neymar gave it to me, said you'd recognize it as the one you gave him." He offers, and the woman smiles slightly.

"How is he? Is he okay?" She heads into the store, and wanders behind the counter, taking a box, starting to fill it with delicious and expensive looking cakes. Whatever Neymar did for this woman, she's very grateful to be so generous.

"He's... He seems okay, but you know what he's like." Leo offers vaguely. He's not sure what else he can say about Neymar really. He only ever seems okay, you can never really tell how he is, because the scar will randomly start to hurt, or he'll grow pale and fragile, or his temper will fray and he'll snap or clam up. He's as unpredictable as the weather.

"Yeah... He's a strange one." The woman pours two coffees, and hands Leo a large bag, the box of cakes, and coffees inside. "He saved me from an armed robber." She smiles slightly, the expression soft and fond. "Refused to let me give him anything for weeks afterwards, but eventually I brought him around. Tell him to come see me next time." She waves Leo out of the store, and he nods, leaving her with a quiet goodbye.

Another person, another tale of Neymar's contradictory goodness. There's entirely too much charity in him, too much altruism, too much white whale for a man in his situation, but Leo supposes it's a fine complement to his own utter lack of compassion for most people he encounters. Neymar fits him almost scarily well, but Leo isn't sure what he gives Neymar in return. There has to be some reason Neymar's allowed him to stay with him. Though, with Neymar it might just be that he saw letting Leo hang around as an act of philanthropy, in all honesty Leo wouldn't put that past him.

"Hey." Leo pokes his head into the shelter, and pauses, staring at Neymar in surprise. He's curled up in a ball, trembling slightly, his warm brow skin is strangely pale, a sheen of sweat on the patches that are visible. "Hey..." Leo approaches him carefully, gingerly touching his shin. "It's me, its Leo... Neymar? Are you okay?" There's a miserable groan from Neymar, and Leo creeps closer.

"Shh..." Neymar hisses softly, and Leo reaches out to touch his forehead, surprised when Neymar allows the contact. He sits in silence for a long while, gently stroking Neymar's skin, quietly watching whatever episode he'd walked in on pass.

"You okay now?" Leo asks once Neymar's stopped shaking, getting a vague nod, and Neymar's hand desperately reaching for his, squeezing tightly.

"I'm okay. Did you get breakfast?" Neymar sits up slowly, not relinquishing his hold on Leo's fingers, if anything he's squeezing tighter.

"I did, got a whole box of stuff and some coffee too." Leo smiles, moving to sit by Neymar, their shoulders pressed tightly together. "Here, it'll be cold enough to drink by now. You know how takeaway coffee is, always too hot to drink when you first get it." Neymar lets Leo's hand go to take the cup from him, sipping at the liquid inside. "Does that... Neymar, does that happen to you often?" Leo watches Neymar fidget, fussing with the box of cakes he's pulled closer to himself.

"Not too often, just... Just when I think too much. It's... I don't know how to explain it." He sighs, curling in on himself, and picking at the cake he'd taken, nibbling at the mountain of frosting on top of it.

"What is it? I... How can I help if it happens again?" Leo's not one for philanthropy, but Neymar is his, and he looks after the little he owns.

"I dunno." Neymar answers absently, chewing on his cake. "What you did was nice... No one's ever seen me like that before... I usually just hide out, and wait for it to pass, but what you did was good... It helped."

"I didn't do anything." Leo takes a cake for himself, taking a bite from it, savoring its sweet deliciousness.

"You stayed with me, Leo." Neymar murmurs softly, turning to look at him. "You stayed with me, and that's more than anyone has ever done for me."

The rest of the day, they potter around the city, hanging out close to the areas where the shelters are. It's too early for any of them to be open, but Leo knows the one he wants them to spend the night in. The nicest of the bunch, the showers in cubicles, the dorms for sleeping in with fewer beds than the others, but they're comfortable, and altogether more private than the majority of the shelters in the city, so it fills up quickly. Leo intends to hang about, and get them through the doors as soon as they're open.

Neymar seems quietly subdued, his mind clearly elsewhere, and whilst Leo thinks that since last night he might be allowed to ask what Neymar's thinking about, he's not sure he's earned the right to be answered. Neymar has even less than Leo that he can truly call his own. Leo has his thoughts, he has his opinions, and he has his past. Neymar lacks that, his past is a void, and Leo isn't sure if he pities or envies him for that. Forgetting the past would be a benefit, there are things Leo's done that he's not proud of, but they're part of what makes him himself, so he wants them. They might shitty, but they're his, and he's keeping them.

"Leo?" Neymar's voice shakes him from his thoughts, and Leo glances over at him.

"Uh-huh?" Leo empties some of the coins out of his cup for something to do, there's an air around Neymar, something heavy and dark, and Leo's not too sure he wants to know what's caused it.

"I... I've been thinking-"

"What about?" Leo interrupts. He's not sure he likes the idea of Neymar thinking too much. The episode in the lean-to lingers in his mind, Neymar's fragility. It's not how Leo wants to see Neymar, he wants him to okay at least, not curled up in agony.

"I... It's getting late." Neymar stands, offering a hand down to Leo, a smile on his lips. "We're aiming for that one hostel with the shower cubicles... Maybe we can share?" He winks, and starts walking, Leo tailing him quickly. He's sure this isn't what Neymar had wanted to say, but he supposes that Neymar will tell him what's on his mind in due time, Leo just has to wait him out.

The shower cubicle is small and cramped, but Leo can't say he minds all that much. Neymar's sleek, wet body slides against his, their chest pressed together, their lips locked, one of Neymar's legs wrapped around Leo's calves.

"Fuck... Want you." Neymar pants in Leo's ear, sending shivers down his spine. "Want you to fuck me, Leo. Want you inside me." Neymar's teeth scrape over his throat, and Leo's hands trails down his back, groping at his ass. It looks pretty and firm, but it feels even better, firm with just the right amount of give. Neymar's skin is sleek despite the hair on his body, dark strands down his legs, over his chest to his groin, hair that matches Leo's own in pattern. Feeling Neymar's body against his own is nothing like feeling one of the dainty pretty boys he's picked up in hostels before, or the flabby middle-aged and older men that find Leo attractive enough to pay for a fuck. They'd all been smooth, waxed or shaved out of their body hair as though it was something to be ashamed of, as though the fact that adults grow hair on their bodies was some kind of sin. Leo's never quite understood the obsession scurriers have with removing their hair. It's strange to him, the bizarre idea that puberty shouldn't have happened, and that body hair is unsightly and should be exterminated has never resonated with Leo. He likes the feel of the hair on Neymar's skin, likes the feel of it rubbing against his own, likes that Neymar feels like an adult even though he seems younger than him.

"No here... Don't wanna fuck you here, Neymar." Leo murmurs in his ear, nipping at the lobe. "Wanna fuck you on a bed, wanna fuck you somewhere better than this... The first time's gotta be special." Leo nips Neymar's earlobe again, and Neymar snorts against Leo's throat, nibbling once more before pulling back to face Leo.

"It's hardly the first time for either of us." Neymar smirks. The leg he had wrapped around Leo's calves rises, wrapping around his hips instead, bringing Leo's half-hard cock into contact with Neymar's own.

"It's our first time... I... I'll make us some money, get us a room." Leo mutters, rutting against Neymar briefly. It's tempting to thrust against Neymar's length like this until they both come, but it's too risky. They've already been in the shower for a while; the staff will start to get suspicious soon enough.

"Urgh... Fine." Neymar groans, and steps away, starting to get washed quickly. Leo reaches out to him, draws him closer, and pulls him into a kiss that leaves Neymar panting, and gazing at Leo fondly. "You're a dick." Neymar laughs, and Leo nods, kissing Neymar's scar.

"I am... And you're my asshole." Leo laughs, and Neymar rolls his eyes at the thinly veiled innuendo of the joke.

"You assume that I'm bottoming." Neymar mutters and Leo squeezes his ass, then trails a finger between Neymar's asscheeks, teasing his hole, and smirking when Neymar rocks back against that one finger greedily.

"I assume right." Leo kisses Neymar's temple, and lets him go. "C'mon, we better hurry." Neymar nods, kissing Leo once more, this time slow and soft, the kind of kiss that leaves Leo clinging to him tightly.

The dorm they're assigned to fills quickly, and Leo's almost annoyed he'd not pushed for the little room he knows they have for couples, but he's staying with his conviction. He's not fucking Neymar until it's somewhere he's paid for, until is somewhere private. He's going to do this right for a change, not in some cramped shower stall in a shelter, but a bed, a real bed where it's only them, no outside distractions.

"Leo?" Neymar's voice is muted, but Leo can hear him loud and clear. It's almost as though his ears are highly tuned to pick out Neymar's voice no matter what.

"What?" Leo reaches over the space between their beds, taking Neymar's hand when it's offered to him. It's a simple gesture, but for Leo it means much more than he'd expected. This simple physical contact is a connection of Neymar, one he doesn't want to break.

"I need to go tomorrow morning... I... I've got a night with a client." He looks away, and Leo squeezes his hand tightly, drawing Neymar's attention back to his face, a little smile flits over Neymar's lips. In the dim light, the stark white of the scar is brighter than ever, and it takes a lot of will power on Leo's part to keep his gaze from that little mar on Neymar's forehead.

"The bruises on your face?" Leo thinks that he should have phrased the question better, or tried to lure the information out more skillfully, but he's too tired, and too keen to know where and how Neymar was injured for eloquence.

"No... No damaging the goods." Neymar laughs softly, and Leo stares at him. It might be the creed of all who sell themselves, but poverty's need for money can override almost any creed. "I got jumped on my way back to the spot... It's why I'm going back so soon... I... We need the money." Neymar sighs, his fingers tightening around Leo's. "I'll get a fair bit even for one night, and I want to use it to get us a room somewhere for a little while." He smiles tentatively at Leo.

"A room?" Leo smiles and Neymar nods. Leo thinks he knows what Neymar's saying. He's up for doing something more than just staring, and teasing in a shower cubicle, and if Neymar wants to get the room, then Leo supposes that's okay, it'll still be private; it'll still be just them, even if Leo isn't footing the bill.

"Somewhere with just us... I..." He sighs, looking down awkwardly. "I can't take you staring at me anymore." He looks at Leo through his lashes, a coy twist to his lips.

"I stare at you cause you're interesting, Neymar." Leo leans over the edge of his bed, and presses his lips to the back of Neymar's hand. "You want me to show you just how interesting I find you?" Leo laughs quietly.

"Hmm... Yeah, I do." Neymar smirks at him, and Leo squeezes his hand once more, letting it go. The other homeless nearby are getting restless, he can hear them stirring; if he and Neymar talk much longer, their conversation will be interrupted by someone telling them to shut up. "I'm gonna go tomorrow morning, and see my client... I'll be back the next day though."

"I'll wait in the usual spot, look for somewhere cheap to stay while you're seeing." Leo mutters, and Neymar nods, tugging the blankets up to his chin once more. "Don't make me wait too long, okay?"

"I'll be there, don't worry. G'night." Neymar yawns and Leo watches him in the half-light. He can't help but worry though. Tomorrow is going to be a day Leo spends with an unsettled panic in his stomach, because more often than not being seen by scurriers isn't a good thing, and he can only hope that the one who sees Neymar is more white whale than scurrier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read, please review - even a few words truly keeps me motivated!


	6. Leo & Neymar

There is no such thing as perfection. It's a fallacy spread by the media of the world of the scurriers. Perfection is like satisfaction, utterly unobtainable. As soon as something is perfect, it becomes imperfect. By being attained, it immediately becomes tainted, and so no longer perfection. Perfection isn't real, but then the world of scurriers is illusory, nothing is real in it, even their reality TV is scripted. For scurriers there is no need for reality to rudely intrude on the lives they're cultivating. They're comfortable with illusions, and self-deception. Truth terrifies scurriers, they can't face it, can't take criticism, can't take being disagreed with. They live in their worlds where they're right, where their delusions are the truth. Leo lives in a world of realities, cold hard facts that you can't argue with.

That morning Neymar had slinked out of the shelter, leaving Leo with nothing more than a slight smile, and a promise to return, but there's a chance that promise is nothing more than illusion. Prostitution is a dangerous profession for the homeless. They have nothing but themselves, and there are those who would seek to take even that from them. All day Leo drifts from place to place, never really settling anywhere, feeling unnerved. It had been easier when Neymar was just gone, but now Leo knows what he's gone to do, and he wants to stop him, wants to find something that's safer for him, for them both. His mental declaration that Neymar is his has made this nearly impossible to bear.

The scurriers don't see him. They note a person shaped lump, and those with the need to feel better about themselves drop him a few coins, but on the whole, they don't pay him any mind. They're too busy caught in their own lives, in their own illusions, delusions really, to see someone else. On the walls and billboards around him there's advertising for a myriad of things Leo will never own or use, all being sold with illusions. Photoshop was a terrible invention, it lets scurriers delude themselves even more, it whitewashes the flaws of humanity into the grey mulch of their cities. Cookie cutter people, with cookie cutter lives, living in cookie cutter homes, on cookie cutter streets, in cookie cutter cities. None of them have ever experienced the dread and fear of not knowing what will happen in the way that Leo has. On the streets, life is a gamble. One day you could roll a good hand and meet your needs with relative ease, the next you might be unlucky and find yourself going hungry once more.

Delusion might be a pleasant way to live. It affords you the ability to see sunshine and rainbows in the place of horrors and plights. It's something Leo's almost envious of scurriers for. Going through life deluded would make things so much easier. If Leo held delusions, he could make-believe that Neymar was somewhere safe, doing something safe, not being fucked by some unknown for money. That's a cold hard fact that Leo's struggling with. Neymar should be somewhere safe, but he's not. The unknown is intrinsically unsafe, dangers lurk in the unknown, and Neymar being there worries him, keeps him from sleeping even though he retreats to the little lean-to that night.

"Hey, move over. Lemme in." Neymar's voice jars Leo out of his contemplative daze, and he unwinds the blankets from around him enough to catch Neymar and pull him into his arms.

"This isn't the morning, nor is it where you were supposed to meet me." Leo mumbles, his arms squeezing Neymar tightly, half convinced that this is nothing more than a dangerous delusion of his own. He wouldn't put it past his sleeping mind to conjure up Neymar to fill his arms.

"Lucho is a sweet guy... Said I seemed too distracted to stay the night." Neymar mutters, kissing the underside of Leo's jaw.

"Lucho?" Leo doesn't really want to know anything about the man who fucked Neymar, but it seems like Neymar remembers this guy's name, which is a surprise. If he's remembered, he must be important to Neymar.

"He's a nice guy... He's gentle with me." Neymar mutters.

"Good." Leo doesn't add that anyone who touches Neymar should be gentle with him, beneath the tough looking exterior, Neymar's a fragile creature of spun sugar, and should always be handled with care.

"Yeah... So, you miss me?" Neymar sounds softly sleepy, and Leo kisses his head once more, squeezing him tightly for good measure.

"More than you realize." Leo murmurs, but Neymar doesn't reply. His breathing is soft and regular, clearly fast asleep.

In the light of morning, Leo slips from under Neymar, and goes to fetch something for breakfast with the little money he'd cobbled together yesterday from begging. He wants to provide for Neymar in some strange primitive way, like an animal providing for its mate. When he gets back to the shack, Neymar's still sleeping, and Leo takes the opportunity to study his face, checking for any new bruises.

"You're staring at me." Neymar's eyes don't open as he talks, and Leo sits down by his head, letting Neymar rest it on his thighs.

"You're interesting." Leo answers absently, stroking Neymar's cheek. "I come bearing gifts."

"I can smell it." Neymar finally opens his eyes, and smiles up at Leo. "Did you find somewhere to stay?" Neymar sits up, and kisses Leo lightly on the cheek, taking the little paper bag of food, and a cup of cheap coffee.

"I did." In his wanderings, Leo had found a little motel that was as cheap as it was dingy. It won't be the best place to make love to Neymar for the first time, but it'll be a lot better than it being in a cramped stall in a shelter, or even here in their improvised shack.

"So we eat, and then go? How much is it?" Neymar takes a bite of food after he speaks, a little smile creeping over his lips at the taste.

"Forty for a night." Leo snags his own portion of food, starting to eat.

"Really? Hmm, we've got twenty to buy some food with then." Neymar grins and Leo smiles at him slightly.

"Food and some lube... Unless you've got some." Neymar shakes his head, and Leo tenses up slightly. The idea of anyone taking Neymar dry makes bile rise in his throat.

"Lucho provides. It's like I said, he's gentle with me..." Neymar sighs, and rests his chin in his palm, his elbow propped on his knee. "He treats me like a person. It's weird... Most other clients just want a hole to fuck, and that's it, but Lucho... He talks about his kids, about his job, asks about me, how I'm doing, if I'm okay... He always gives me extra. He's a sweet guy... On the rotund side, but sweet, and gentle, and clever." Neymar smiles, and Leo snorts. "He talks about interesting things." Neymar's smile takes on a slight leer, and Leo rolls his eyes.

"He sounds great." It's an oddly bitter sounding tone that Leo delivers that comment in, and Neymar chuckles at him.

"He pays me. You get me for free. There's a big difference, Leo." Neymar touches Leo's cheek, stroking his thumb over Leo's lips. "You can have me whenever you like, he has to make appointments, and write them down on a little card for me."

"You're mine, Neymar... I don't wanna share-"

"You have to, even if you don't want to, you have to share me, just like I have to share you, because we don't get any choice. If things were different, I wouldn't do this... If I had the choice, I wouldn't sell myself, I wouldn't let you sell yourself either, but choices aren't things we get many of." Neymar smiles miserably, and Leo rests his hand on the back of his neck, stroking over Neymar's skin lightly.

"We get to choose some things, Neymar. We get to choose each other." The misery bleeds from Neymar's smile, and Leo draws him into a kiss. "C'mon, eat up, then we'll head to a store, and buy provisions."

It's a strange luxury actually buying things. When they venture into stores it's usually for the purposes of theft, but it's rare that they bother with that. Neymar refuses to steal from Mom 'n' Pop stores, and the larger ones won't let them in. It's been so long Leo can't actually remember the last time he went shoplifting. Neymar's curious moral compass is an odd thing to be guided by, it's counterproductive in many ways, but Leo feels as though through Neymar's more altruistic choices, he's gaining a hint of white whale. They're careful with what they purchase, though Neymar doesn't object when Leo adds a carton of ice cream to their basket. This whole thing is an indulgence. The money Neymar made they should be saving, or using for some better purpose, a motel room for a night, maybe two if Leo can sweet talk the guy behind the desk, isn't what they need. It's nothing more than indulging Leo's curious desire to indulge Neymar, or maybe himself. He wants to fuck Neymar somewhere nice the first time, but Neymar had pointed out that this isn't the first time for either of them. They've both had sex in unpleasant surroundings; both have had it for money, something he's sharply reminded of when Neymar tosses a box of condoms into the basket. This isn't some fairy-tale romance, some prince bedding his princess of the first time. This is a man all but born on the streets, and never able to get off them, fucking a man with no past, a vague present, and a future shrouded in mystery. It's not the stuff of storybooks, but Leo doesn't want to let their first time together be as grubby as every other time he's had sex. There's something about Neymar that makes him want to give him something soft, something nice, something better than they both have. Neymar is a flame, and Leo is as helpless as moth before him, drawn to him, inexorably, inescapably, despite the danger he can't resist. There's almost no doubts in Leo's mind that this relationship with Neymar is dangerous. It makes them both a target, it paints them both a human-sized bull's-eye on their backs, but resisting is like fighting gravity. Leo wants Neymar, and Neymar seems to want Leo. It's one of those cold hard truths, but unlike of many of those, this one is tinged with something less unpleasant.

"This is the place?" Neymar mutters as they approach the shabby motel, and Leo nods, almost wishing he'd found somewhere nicer, but knowing that would be out of their incredibly limited price range.

"Yeah... C'mon, you can work your charm on the manager." Leo laughs, touching Neymar's fingers lightly, not quite taking his hand, but wanting a connection with him.

"I'll try... But my charm is dubious at best." Neymar mumbles, and Leo shakes his head, not really sure how to reply.

The manager is as greasily unpleasant looking as he'd been yesterday, and he leers at them as they enter his office.

"Back again?" He smirks at Leo, and Leo can feel violence creeping up his spine. The man's eyes are lingering too long on Neymar, too long on Leo as well, but Neymar is Leo's priority.

"What's your rate?" Neymar leans over the desk, and Leo hovers by his side, trying to keep a glare from his face.

"I get the feeling I could ask you the same thing, darlin'." The manager laughs and Leo digs his nails into his palms, hoping to keep from punching the greasy bastard.

"Hmm... Maybe, but I'm not working right now." Neymar's tone is odd, flirtatious, and Leo doesn't like hearing it directed at anyone who isn't him.

"Some other day, maybe?" The manger's hand reaches out to Neymar's face, and Neymar stands up straight, a coy smile on his lips. "How much money you got, sweetness?"

"A fifty." Neymar sets the bill on the counter, his hand resting on top of it. The manager places a key down by Neymar's hand, and then rests his own on top of Neymar's.

"Two nights." The man smiles, and Leo's sure he's broken the skin of his palms with his short, jaggedly bitten nails. "Maybe we can renegotiate something later." Neymar doesn't answer; he merely looks at the man thoughtfully.

"I'd like a receipt." He smiles, and the manager barks a laugh. Leo supposes that Neymar wants the receipt as proof of the agreement, and he can't argue with Neymar's pragmatism, he wouldn't put it past this greasy man to try and back out of the deal come tomorrow.

"I'll need a name for book, darlin'." The manager smirks. Leo steps closer, and takes the key, hovering close to Neymar's side.

"Messi . Neymar Messi." He snarls, and the manager laughs once more, but does write up a receipt for two nights, making a note of it in the logbook. He places the receipt in Neymar's hand, his fingers lingering over Neymar's, and Leo makes a point of wrapping his arm wound Neymar's shoulders, staking his claim over him, as Neymar hands over the fifty.

"Two nights for fifty's a pretty good deal, huh?" Neymar smiles over at him once they've left the office, and Leo nods, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "You know... Getting jealous over me trying to get us a good deal is kinda hot." Neymar's laughing at him, Leo can hear it in his tone, but he doesn't mind, not really.

"Yeah, well... Get in." Leo mutters, unlocking the door, and ushering Neymar into the room, locking it behind him firmly. The outside world doesn't exist, not anymore. Leo intends to keep Neymar sequestered from reality for the next two nights. It's going to be them, their food, and using all of the condoms they bought. Leo intends to revel in Neymar's body, but first they're going to shower. At least that was Leo's plan, because Neymar has other ideas. As soon as the door is locked, Neymar grabs Leo's shoulders, and turns him around, then presses him back against the thin door with a fierce kiss. It's rough, with nipping, and suckling, hands in hair, or trying to force their way under many layers of clothing. "C'mon, lemme get undressed... I wanna take a shower before we get down to it." Leo murmurs between frenzied kisses. Neymar steps away from him, and starts the complicated process of peeling his layers of clothing off, his gaze heavy on Leo as he watches Leo stripping his own clothing off.

"C'mere." Neymar reaches out of him once they're both naked, and Leo steps closer, letting Neymar wrap his arms around him, kissing him once more. Unlike the first round of kissing this kiss is slow, careful, and sensual. Hands that had been harsh and demanding are now gentle in their explorations, caressing uncovered skin with almost reverence. "You think there's shampoo in the bathroom? Your mop needs washing." Neymar laughs, running his fingers through Leo's greasy hair.

"In a place like this? There's probably one of those dispensers on the wall with all in one stuff." Leo mutters, nipping at Neymar's throat lightly.

"I guess we'll find out, right?" Neymar steps away, taking Leo's hand, leading him to the little bathroom. In the room, there's little more than a toilet, sink, and a small shower cubicle, thankfully above the sink there's a shelf with some towels, and affixed to the wall is a dispenser. Neymar flicks the shower on, and hangs back, waiting for the water to heat up. Once it's heated up, he drags Leo into the cramped stall with him, wrapping himself around Leo's body, kissing him once more.

"Washing? We gonna be doing any of that?" Leo laughs, squirting a handful of the gel from the dispenser into his hand, and rubbing it into Neymar's short hair. Neymar snorts, and takes a handful of his own, starting to work it through Leo's tangled, greasy mess of hair. Once they've washed, Neymar sinks to his knees in front of Leo, and smirks up at him, taking a hold of his cock. "Neymar?"

"What?" He smiles innocently, and laps at Leo's balls, sucking one into his mouth, his hand still slowly jerking Leo's cock.

"I'm not looking to come so soon..." Leo mutters, his hands coming to rest on Neymar's head. Neymar moves on to Leo's other ball, suckling on it, drawing it down, bathing the sack with his tongue. He's always enjoyed attention to his nuts, but it's not something Leo gets to experience all that often, and whilst there's part of him that wants to draw Neymar up, and relocate to the bed, there's a bigger part that's moaning softly as Neymar's clever little tongue laps at his sack, and his thin fingers stroke his cock. "Enough." Leo steps as far from Neymar as he can, he really will come long before he wants to if he lets this continue.

"Hmm... Later? Later, I'm gonna make you come like that." Neymar gets to his feet gracelessly, and kisses Leo. "So, bed?" He smirks. Leo shuts the water off, and opens the cubicle door, snagging a towel from the shelf. He hands it to Neymar, and then takes one for himself.

"Yeah, later." Leo dries off quickly, and leads Neymar to the bed. Neymar flops down on to his back, his legs parting slightly. Leo grabs the lube, and condoms from the bag on the floor, and gets on the bed between Neymar's legs. "You're pretty all laid out like this." Leo mutters, trailing his fingers over Neymar's thighs.

"You're really gonna do this all slow?" Neymar rolls his eyes as he talks, and arches his back slightly. The ugly floral bedspread's garish colors look jarringly unattractive when compared to the caramel skin and tattoos on Neymar's body, but Neymar is a far more interesting sight than the linen. His smile is soft and sweet, his eyes hazy and mellow, his cock half-hard.

"Uh-huh... Gonna do this proper." Leo mutters, leaning over Neymar, and claiming his mouth with a slow, deep kiss. Neymar moans into the kiss, his fingers tangled in Leo's hair, carding through the strands slowly as his hips buck up, rubbing their cocks together.

"Proper? I'm more for getting down and dirty." Neymar laughs, as Leo starts nibbling at the skin over his collarbone, his hands still in Leo's hair, nails scratching at his scalp.

"We got two days, Neymar... Slow and steady to start." Leo murmurs, worrying a little mark on the side of Neymar's neck, lapping over it, and moaning when Neymar's hands trail down to his shoulders.

"I could argue the other way... We've got time for your tortoise bullshit later... Be a hare for me?" Neymar laughs, and Leo moves down his body, suckling at one of his nipples.

"Aesop's fables do not make for good conversation during sex, Neymar." Leo laughs softly, blowing at Neymar's peaked nipple.

"Then pick it up." Neymar squirms beneath him, and Leo moves up him once more, kissing Neymar again, then rolls them over, letting Neymar settle on his hips.

"You're an impatient man." Leo rests his hands on Neymar's hips, smirking when Neymar stares down at him in slight confusion. "You wanna be in charge? Well, here you go, set your own pace."

"My own pace you will object to, and I can be plenty slow when I like." Neymar leans down, and nips at one of Leo's nipples. He slowly works his way down Leo's chest, trailing nipping kisses down his stomach, then further to once more start laving at his balls. Leo groans softly, cursing his decision to let Neymar control this, because it seems he intends to do nothing but torment Leo.

"You're a monster." Leo moans, his hands on Neymar's head, not sure if he wants to pull him up, or guide him to take Leo's cock in his mouth.

"Hmm?" Neymar hums with Leo's ball still in his mouth, the vibrations feeling incredibly good.

"Stop... Stop..." Neymar hums once more at Leo's words, and Leo flicks his ear, making Neymar stop teasing his balls to glare up at Leo. "You're a monster." Leo repeats with smile.

"Don't mess with my ears." Neymar rubs the offended flesh lightly, and Leo smirks at him.

"Weak spot?" Leo runs a finger along the pierced shell of Neymar's ear, and he ducks away from Leo's touch.

"I don't like it." He frowns, and Leo nods, silently promising to not touch Neymar's ears again. If he doesn't like it, there's no point in it, Leo wants this to be a pleasant experience for both of them, he doesn't want something so small to taint it for Neymar.

"Alright." Leo reaches out to Neymar, a flood of relief filling his gut when Neymar rests his cheek against Leo's palm. "You like this though, don't you?" Leo strokes his thumb over Neymar's eyebrow, then ghosts it over the bottom of the scar. Neymar nods slightly, his eyes falling closed. "Can you feel it when I touch it?" This time Leo traces a finger along the scar, feeling the difference in texture between it and the rest of Neymar's forehead.

"A little... It's more like I can feel around it." Neymar doesn't open his eyes, and Leo leans up, placing a barely there kiss to the scar. "I can feel it when it hurts, and that's about it."

"Like Harry Potter." Leo laughs, and Neymar looks at him a little blankly. Pop culture must have been something Neymar had forgotten, and not had time to reclaim. Leo knows of Harry Potter thanks to advertising, and then reading the books in the library. In the winter is cold, and libraries are warm with plenty to do, Leo's a big fan of them. "You can read the books." Leo smile and Neymar shrugs, his expression stating that he has no interest in reading any of them. "Come up here, lemme kiss you." Leo guides Neymar to lie over him, kissing him languidly, stroking his hands down Neymar's back to cup his ass.

"C'mon, enough stalling." Neymar slips from Leo's arms, and lies on his back once more. His hands make a grab for the lube, and he presses the bottle into Leo's hand. Leo takes it, and settles between Neymar's thighs. He coats a finger, then meets Neymar's eyes.

"You ready?" Leo knows that asking is pointless, but it feels like the right thing to do, and Neymar nods at him, his legs spreading a little more. Neymar's ass offers little resistance, but it clings to Leo's finger, though that's clearly through experience, rather than lack of use. Neymar knows how to work his ass to make it feel good, knows how to tighten his muscles to make himself tighter, that's the lesson he's trying to teach Leo. He's learned how to be a good fuck, and as the muscles of his ass tighten and relax around Leo's finger rhythmically, Leo can't help but envision the feeling around his cock.

"Turn round?" Neymar's wearing a slight smirk when Leo looks up at him, and Leo does as he asks, moving to straddle him, his cock in Neymar's face. He slips two fingers inside Neymar this time, and bites back a moan as Neymar's tongue laps tentatively at the head of his cock. The long, spidery fingers that wrap around the shaft rob Leo of his focus, and he has to still his ministrations to Neymar's hole whilst he thrusts into the tight grip on his cock. By the end of these two days, Leo's certain he's going to make use of Neymar's mouth more than once. He seems to have slight oral fixation, and Leo intends to indulge him, but not now, because now Leo wants to be inside Neymar's ass.

"Hey, condom?" Leo looks over his shoulder towards Neymar. There's a low moan, and Neymar lets Leo's cock slip from his mouth.

"You're intent on not letting me suck you off, aren't you?" Neymar snaps, but there's a laugh in his voice, and Leo smiles at him, thrusting his fingers against Neymar's prostate, wiping the mild annoyance from his expression. Neymar grabs the box of condoms from beside him, takes one out, opens it, and slides it down Leo's dick. His moans are quietly breathy as Leo pulls his fingers from inside of him. Leo's sure that Neymar would have been ready with half as much prep, but he wants this to feel good, he wants this to be nothing like being fucked by a client. As much as he hates delusions, he wants this to be like being taken for the first time for Neymar. He moves, settling between Neymar's spread legs, and coats his sheathed cock in lube.

"Hey, Neymar..." Leo mutters, drawing Neymar's attention to him. Neymar's eyes are soft, the green of his irises almost swallowed up by the black of his pupils. "Do you remember your first time?"

"My first time, or my first time?" He asks softly, his eyes half-closed as Leo penetrates him. Even with the time rubber separating them, Neymar's heat, the feeling of his tight body is almost too much, and Leo stills with just the tip of his cock inside. 

"Your first time." Leo stresses the your, he already knows that the person Neymar was before first time will be a mystery, everything of who Neymar was is. "Was it good? Did they look after you?"

"No." Neymar shakes his head, his eyes fully closing. "It... It wasn't good." His voice is soft, and Leo kisses his temple easing a little deeper into him.

"Neither was mine." Leo whispers into his ear, and sinks into Neymar fully. Neymar moans beneath him, and Leo lifts his face from where it was pressed against the side of Neymar's neck.

"I'm sorry." Neymar sounds so earnest, and Leo laughs softly. He'd long ago accepted his introduction to sex. In his childhood, he'd watched his mother sell it, and even then, even at an age so low he could count it on his fingers, Leo had known that one day he'd be like his mother. He'd always know that one day he'd be negotiating with the one thing he'd always be able to barter with, his body. The first time though, he'd received no monetary compensation for his pain, his mother had gotten a fix for the next few days, but all Leo had gotten was a sore ass and a limp. "I..."

"I'll tell you the story, but not today." Leo withdraws a little, rocking back in slowly, repeating the shallow movements, unwilling to draw out of Neymar too far. It's a delusion, but joined like this, Leo feels connected to Neymar, more than just physically, but emotionally too. "Today is about us, who we are. What happened isn't important, right now all that matters is what's happening." Leo smiles and Neymar nods, his back arching, his hips moving with Leo's.

"Hmm..." Neymar smiles at him, and draws Leo down for a slow kiss, one that matches the gentle rhythm of their hips, a kiss that builds as the speed of Leo's thrusts do. The kiss lasts until Leo pulls back, shifting slightly to put more power and speed behind his hips, taking Neymar more forcefully, claiming him. Each movement is a declaration of ownership in Leo's mind, and the way Neymar moves and arches into each thrust is an acceptance of Leo's stake of claiming. "Out." Neymar says suddenly, and Leo withdraws from his body, watching as Neymar turns to rest on his knees and elbows. He turns to look at Leo over his shoulder, a coy little smirk on his lips. "Fuck me." Leo slides back into Neymar, and takes a firm grasp of his hips, fucking him as he had ordered, pounding down into Neymar's clenching hole, drawing gasping moans from him.

"Don't wanna come like this." Leo mutters, against Neymar's shoulder, nipping at the skin. "Wanna see your face." Neymar huffs slightly, his hand has been working his cock for a good long while, and Leo thinks he's close.

"Alright... "Leo withdraws once more, and Neymar turns to lie on his back again. Leo's quickly between his legs once more, but this time Neymar rests them on Leo's shoulders, letting Leo all but fold him in half, his cock trapped between their stomachs.

"You gonna be able to get off like this?" Leo asks, but Neymar doesn't answer. His pupils are blown wide, his mouth hanging open, panting breathy moans are all he seems capable of offering Leo as a response. "I'll take that as a yes." Leo smirks, and presses closer, fucking Neymar harder, deeper, driving his cock into Neymar's ass with practiced skill. Neymar's hand squirms between them, stroking his cock in time with Leo's unruly thrusts. The rhythm Leo had once had is lost to the need to come; the need for completion outweighs finesse. Neymar comes first, with a sharp little moan. If he articulated anything in particular Leo isn't sure, because all he can focus on is the churning need in his balls, and the tight warmth of Neymar's body. When he comes Leo's quiet out of habit, his face pressed against Neymar's neck, hearing his breath still panted as he comes down from his orgasm. A lazy smile finds its way to Leo's lips as he pulls out of Neymar, carefully removing the condom, and tossing it into the trash. Leo lies on his back regarding the ceiling, feeling Neymar's presence beside him, not entirely sure what to do, but enjoying the pleasant silence between them.

"You think the TV works?" Neymar's voice jars Leo from his daze, and he turns to look at him. Neymar looks sweaty and tired, his cheeks flushed, his lips twisted in a content smile.

"No idea." Leo offers, sitting up against the pillows, and reaching for the remote. Neymar slips off the bed on weak legs, and plugs the set in, switching the power on. He snags the bag of food on the way past, and picks out the melted ice cream. He tosses two spoons from beside the kettle and free packet coffee to Leo, then curls up beside him. "Hey... Look at that." Leo laughs, and Neymar looks up from carefully opening the ice cream. "Harry Potter's on." Leo wraps an arm around Neymar's shoulders, and they settle down to watch the movie.

The rest of the day, they watch TV, and make love again. It's more, and more like love making, slower, more sensuous, not something Leo's ever experienced, and if Neymar ever has it doesn't show. He's sweetly clingy when he's just come, and Leo finds he enjoys petting Neymar's hair in a post-orgasmic bliss far more than he'd expected. That night when they fall asleep, it's in just that the comfortable bliss of having come with someone you love, their bodies tired but satisfied, and the scent of sex clinging to the air.

 

"Hey." Neymar's voice is the first thing Leo hears in the morning. He's sitting on the flimsy wooden chair near the window, sipping at the contents of a cup. The curtains are closed, but they merely tint the light streaming through a sickly shade of yellow, letting shadows cling to Neymar's face.

"Morning." Leo sits up, and runs a hand back through his hair. He looks Neymar over carefully, trying to work out his mood based on his appearance. One of the blankets from the bed is wrapped around him like a shambolic toga; his bare toes are lazily wriggling every so often. He looks relaxed, tranquil, and Leo's happy about that. Yesterday had been good, something he wants again, something he wants far more often than he can have it, but they've this room for today as well, and whilst it might be lazy to take another day out of their reality to live in this little delusion, Leo intends to indulge in it fully.

"Yeah, morning." Neymar slips off the chair, and clambers on to the bed with Leo, his hand curving around his face, resting their foreheads together. "You sleep okay?"

"Like the dead." Leo murmurs, his eyes drifting closed. This moment isn't real. Once they leave this little room they'll be back on the streets, back in the world of the homeless, back to reality, but in this moment Leo can pretend that this is his scurrier home, that the hot water supply is his, that slightly too soft mattress beneath him is his, that the ugly curtains are drawn over his window.

"Hmm... Good." Neymar kisses him softly, letting Leo take control of it easily. Everything in this dingy motel room is only pretend, none of the things in it are Leo's, he knows that. Any concept of ownership over anything but Neymar is illusory, because Neymar is his, because he is Neymar's, and that the one thing he doesn't need to pretend, that is a cold hard fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all of you who left a comment/kudos.  
> Please review or leave a kudos to keep me motivate.
> 
> my poor neymessi is going to be a dead ship, i can't deal with it because good writers already gave up and moved on with new ships, i don't blame them though but i love Neymar and Neymessi so much, so i thought maybe i can do something to keep this fandom from vanishing.


	7. Dr. Coutinho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two years later.

He'd been sick for a while, and though Neymar had been putting a brave face on it for his lover, he'd known this illness wasn't one he'd recover from, not on his own at least. The doctor at the free clinic had assured them on more than once that it was just a cold, something that could be cleared up with time, and antibiotics. Leo had always been skeptical, Neymar had been too, but unlike Leo, he'd kept his thoughts to himself. It was chance, or maybe Leo's obsessive need to keep Neymar around that had led to them going back to the clinic for another visit. It had been surprisingly deserted, the usual doctor not there as it's Christmas, and he's undoubtedly comfortably in his home, eating, drinking, and making merry. Three things that aren't options for Neymar and Leo. Three things that are denied to them more often than not due to their situation.

Being homeless isn't something he's happy about, but there's not much Neymar can do about it. He has no skills beyond what the streets have taught him, no options beyond the ones presented by those same streets. Some unknown to him time ago, something happened to Neymar leaving him with a scar on his forehead, and a vast blank space where his life from before the scar should be. He'd been on the streets a good long time before Leo had crossed his path, and like every other person he'd encountered, Neymar had expected Leo to fade into the white noise of his damaged brain. Only Leo refused to be engulfed by the static. Leo had been determined to make himself a part of Neymar's existence. From almost the day they met, Leo has been saving Neymar's life, and now by forcing him to this clinic, he saved it quite literally once more. Only this time something else has come with this salvation, and Neymar has no idea what to do about it.

"What was it?" Leo looks worried as Neymar almost stumbles out of the doctor's office. It's a far bigger question than Leo realizes, and Neymar shakes his head. Leo's arm is around his shoulders, and they're leaving the clinic, emerging onto the street before Neymar can even think to ask for a cup of coffee from the woman behind the desk. A free cup of coffee had been his entire motivation for coming to the clinic in the first place. It's too late to turn back now though, and Neymar keeps moving forward.

"He knew me... Knew me before the accident." He murmurs, rubbing at his face tiredly. Leo looks over at Neymar, his eyes wide. "He knows all about me. He could tell me everything, Leo, everything." Neymar smiles awkwardly, he can feel how strained the expression must look, because he feels strained. The doctor knew him. No one has ever known him before. Leo looks genuinely surprised for a few moments, then his eyes narrow.

"Did he want anything?" The possessive edge to Leo's voice drags a smile to Neymar's lips, and he shakes his head. The doctor didn't seem to want anything, but Neymar isn't a good reader of people. He's lost the ability to understand certain social cues that children learn to pick up on. It's easy to lie to Neymar, easy to betray him, so he doesn't let people close to spare himself pain that can be easily avoided. Leo has never lied to Neymar, has never betrayed him, and at this stage in their relationship Neymar is certain that Leo never will. There's a bond between them, an understanding that the brutality of betrayal is one that they'll spare each other by being faithful, and honest with one another.

"He... He gave me money, insisted I take it, get somewhere to stay for a few days to give me a chance to heal." Neymar's hand is in his pocket, and he leads Leo over to a doorway, showing him the roll of hundreds in his pocket.

"Fuck..." Leo breathes out slowly, and Neymar nods, pocketing the cash once more. The money he showed Leo isn't all of the notes the doctor gave him. The rest of the cash is hidden in a little pocket in one of the many sweaters Neymar wears to try to keep the biting wind at bay. He'll reveal the truth of the amount of money later, once they're somewhere more secure than a blustery street corner.

"If we get somewhere cheap, a motel or something, it'll last a while, right?" Leo nods in response to Neymar's question. The doctor had been adamant that Neymar stay somewhere warm, and dry for a few nights at least, and Neymar's inclined to agree with the advice offered by the doctor.

"Yeah... I know just the place." Leo presses a kiss to the scar on Neymar's forehead. Neymar's never been entirely sure why Leo always places kisses there. He can't feel them, not really, only the ghost of the sensation, but Leo is always careful to kiss that particular spot, his lips always brushing over it almost reverently. It's almost as though he's silently thankful that scar exists because it's proof that Neymar is still alive.

"Lead the way then." Neymar mutters, falling into step with Leo once more. His arm is wrapped tightly around Neymar's waist as they make their way to some nearby motel. Their progress is slow, because despite feeling better than he has in months, Neymar's still tired, even more tired than he was before the trip to the clinic. He'd like nothing more than to collapse to the ground and sleep, but Leo's arm is keeping him upright, and the money in his pockets is keeping him walking. It's more money than he's ever held, more money than he's ever seen, and it's all his, given to him by the doctor who knew him.

For all he's thought about it, for all he's wanted to meet someone who knew him before the accident, he'd never really expected to find a person who'd known Neymar. Now that he has, he's no idea what to think, or to do. It'd be so very easy to let this all go, so very easy to let this be forgotten, but he has the terrible feeling that Dr. Coutinho won't be forgotten easily, if only because Neymar has his name, address, and telephone number on a scrap of paper in his pocket, nothing sticks in his mind quite like written information. Once something is written down it refuses to sink into the static of Neymar's mind.

"Gimme some of that money, and I'll get us a room." Leo props Neymar up against a wall, and Neymar blinks at him slowly. He's not sure he has the energy to even stay leaning against the wall, his knees feel weak, his mind hazy, leaning seems like a task far beyond him in that moment. "Neymar, baby..." Leo's hand cups his cheek, and Neymar pulls some money off the roll of hundreds the doctor had given him. It's so much money, that doctor and Neymar must have been close for him to hand Neymar over so much cash. "I'll get us a room for as long as I can. You just stay here, alright?" Leo presses a quick kiss to Neymar's forehead, and vanishes inside the little office.

What happened to you Neymar?

Neymar closes his eyes, the doctor's voice echoing in his mind. He'd been so worried, had sounded so genuinely concerned, he had a weird accent, and Neymar can't process it. He's no idea what to do in this situation. He supposes he could talk to Leo, but what he'd say Neymar has no idea. Leo would try to understand, but he'd fail. No matter how much Leo tries, he never quite comprehends what it's like to be Neymar. They both have so very little, but Leo has something that Neymar doesn't. Leo has his past, for better or worse, Leo knows where he came from. Every horror, every tragedy, every slight, every pain, Leo has locked away in his mind, but all Neymar has is a blank space. A few snatched memories from the hospital, and some fuzzy feelings from before. He doesn't have memories from his time as Neymar himself, but sometimes he'll feel something like the ghost of one. He'll be somewhere and a feeling almost like déjà vu will come over him, the barest hint of a feeling that where he is, or what he's doing is familiar.

"Hey? You okay?" Leo's hand is under his chin, tipping his face up, and Neymar forces a slight smile to his lips.

"I'm just tired." He mutters, and Leo nods, pulling him close, squeezing him lightly.

"C'mon then. Let's get you to bed." Leo starts walking slowly once more, his arm tight around Neymar. He enjoys being pressed against Leo far more than he perhaps should, but Leo's the only real human contact Neymar's ever had. Leo is the only person Neymar has found himself compelled to. Whilst he's plenty fond of other people, Leo is the only person Neymar has wanted to touch him, the only person he'd wanted to stay with him, the only person he'd wanted to remember. Other people are hazy collections of features, vague shapes not important enough to put the effort in that Neymar needs to, to remember things, but Leo is worth that effort, he's worth that and so much more.

The motel room is small, dimly lit with a single bulb hidden in a grimly shade, but the bed looks surprisingly clean and comfortable, which is the only thing Neymar cares about. He feels weak, like every ounce of strength has been drained from him along with the pus in that infection. The words the doctor had said to him keep echoing in his mind. Quiet words of recognition, quiet words of hope that'd changed to resignation so quickly when Neymar had told him the truth. The doctor had been so insistent, had literally forced Neymar to take the money, his phone number, his address. The money Neymar has no doubts he and Leo will make use of, the number and address are burning a hole in his pocket, and despite thinking of them so much, he's still no idea what he'll do with them.

If you have any questions about who you were, come and see me. Call me first though; make sure I'm home, okay?

Neymar has questions, so many questions, but he's not sure he wants the answers. Who he was has always plagued him, and knowing would lay those thoughts to rest, but they might conjure up new thoughts, new problems. The Neymar he was hadn't been loved by anyone enough for them to look for him. There'd been no one there, no one to stop Neymar from leaving the hospital, and ending up on the streets. Going back to being what he used to be isn't something Neymar wants to do. Neymar's loved, he's adored, and in turn he loves, and adores. Leo's more than Neymar's lover, he's Neymar's reason to keep going. If it wasn't for Leo, he'd have curled up and let the infection take him long ago, but because of Leo, he'd kept fighting as much as he could. In forcing him to go to the clinic again, Leo saved his life. In truth Neymar's lost count of how many times Leo's saved him, more than Leo will ever realize of that Neymar's certain.

"Hey... C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." Leo's voice startles him far more than he'd like to admit, and he glances up at his lover. "Neymar... You okay?"

"Tired." Neymar yawns and Leo smiles softly, his hand cupping Neymar's cheek.

"Yeah... I know, but we've got a clean bed to sleep in tonight." Leo's smile always fills Neymar with warmth. It's the kind of smile that should have been beaten out of him by his life, but it's still there, clinging with a determination matched solely by Leo's own. "Don't want to be making it all dirty on the first night."

"You sure about that?" The smirking leer Neymar tries for clearly fails when all Leo does is level him with an unimpressed gaze. "I can't get my back wet." Neymar yawns again, and Leo nods vaguely, guiding him to the little bathroom.

"Sponge bath?" Leo chuckles, filling the sink with warm water, and tossing a washcloth into it. "Sit down, you look like you're gonna fall over." Neymar sits heavily on the toilet lid, and watches Leo start to strip. Life on the streets has left its mark on Leo's skin, scars and odd imperfections litter his pale skin, but beneath that damaged skin there's sleek, lean muscle. A naked Leo is something that even now, years after he first saw it, still captures Neymar's attention. Usually at least, not tonight though. Tonight he's too tired, he's too sore, and all he wants is to curl up and sleep. "Get cleaned up, I'll take a shower."

"No fair." Neymar mutters, yawning once more. There's a strange lethargy in him, a kind of bone deep weariness that makes him want to curl up and fall asleep, but Leo's right. For their first night in what is their bed for a little while at least they should be clean.

"Too bad, Neymar. You said yourself that you can't get your back wet." Leo smirks, and comes closer to him, his hand resting on the top of Neymar's head. "Get undressed, and I'll clean you up first." Neymar blinks stupidly at him, and manages a slight nod. "Do you need to take that medication tonight?"

"Yeah... First dose I should probably take soon as possible." His words are barely out before he yawns once more, his eyes drifting closed. Now that he's sitting, and warm, sleep seems so very attainable.

"Hey, hey. No sleeping on the toilet." The next thing Neymar's aware of is Leo crouching in front of him, a pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Take this." He pops the little pill into Neymar's mouth, and then holds the glass to his lips, letting him drink. "C'mon, clothes off." Leo's fingers start working at pulling the layers of clothes off of Neymar's body. Whilst he tries to help, it really seems more like Neymar's hindering the process. It feels like that along with the infected pus, the doctor squeezed out Neymar's coordination, his fingers feel thick and useless. In the end, Leo bats his hands out of the way, and strips Neymar himself, the job made much easier with Neymar not helping.

The process of getting clean isn't one Neymar really remembers, he's lying tucked up in bed in what feels like no time, with only the sounds of Leo showering filling the little motel room. The little slip of paper the doctor gave him is sitting on the nightstand by the bed, the looping script clearly visible despite the darkness of the room.

I'm sorry, Ney. I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do, anything you need... Anything at all, call me, okay? Please... Just call me.

He'd looked so worried, so earnest as he'd said those words to him. This doctor cares, at least he seemed to when faced with how far the person he knew as Neymar had fallen. There's so much of Neymar that wants to crumple that little slip of paper up, and throw it away. The past, his past is something best forgotten, something best left to the annals of history. The Neymar he was wasn't a good person; if he had been, he wouldn't have been alone in that hospital. If Neymar had been a good person, there would have been people there for him. If Neymar had been a good person, there wouldn't be like this, but if there weren't who he is now, he wouldn't be in this motel room. If the real Neymar had been a good person, this Neymar wouldn't have Leo. He's not going to gain anything from learning who he was, at least Neymar doesn't think he will, but there's so much he could lose, and he's not certain he could take losing anything else.

"You gonna call him?" Leo's voice drags Neymar from his thoughts. He slips into bed behind Neymar; one hand comes to rest on Neymar's hip, stroking the skin there lightly.

"I dunno." Neymar mutters, turning to lie on his other side, facing Leo.

"Hmm..." Leo's hand moves up to stroke a finger over Neymar's eyebrow, gently brushing over the scar on his forehead. "I think you will." He says plainly, and Neymar shrugs awkwardly.

"I might, I dunno." Neymar moves a little closer to Leo, pressing his face against Leo's shoulder. "I don't know if I want to know what he can tell me."

"You do, but you're scared, Neymar." Leo's arm slips under Neymar, pulling him closer. "Your pages could be filled in for you. You could have your whole story, don't you want that?"

"I think you want it more than me to be honest." Neymar mumbles, and Leo laughs.

"Maybe... You're a riddle, wrapped in an enigma, topped off with a mysterious bow." He kisses Neymar's hair, and makes a quietly contented noise. "But I want you to know for yourself more than I want to know for me." He says softly, and Neymar sighs, nodding against Leo's chest. "It's important to you, so it's important to me, and you know no matter what he tells you, I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere, Neymar."

"I know." Neymar murmurs, kissing Leo's chest lightly. "I'll think about it." Another yawn comes over him, and Leo laughs, the noise a slight rumble under Neymar's ear.

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow I'll go start looking for some work. I want to keep this place till you're better, and I don't know how long that money's gonna last." A worried tone creeps into Leo's voice, and Neymar closes his eyes, loses himself in the feeling of Leo's love. "I was scared I was going to lose you." He admits quietly, and Neymar winces. He'd been scared too, but not of dying, he'd almost resigned himself to the inevitability of whatever had been wrong killing him. What Neymar had been scared of was leaving Leo alone. There'd been a fearful part of him that had been convinced that Leo would try to follow him into death. Life is something that Leo puts a lot of thought into, something he ponders over endlessly. They've had many long rambling conversations about how Leo feels about the world around them, about the people they see, about his scurriers, but they rarely talk about death. Neymar doesn't think Leo's afraid of dying, not really at least, rather Neymar thinks Leo avoids thinking about it, because it's inevitable. There's nothing to be gained from dying, the only gains that you can make are in living. Leo's made it very clear, over and over again, that without Neymar he'd have very little to keep going on for. Neymar's a mystery, and Leo loves mysteries. He loves to think things over, loves to puzzle out answers, and Neymar is a riddle with no easy solution. Neymar doesn't know the answers to Leo's questions, so there's no way to solve him. If Neymar had died, Leo would have lost his great conundrum, and Neymar had worried that without that Leo would have sought death too.

"I'm right here." Neymar yawns. He doesn't have a real answer or response to Leo's comment. He's not going anywhere, that doctor saved his life. The infection's been removed, and the new course of medication will fix him up. He'll be fine, he'll live, but there's something else the doctor can do for Leo along with saving Neymar's life. That doctor can solve the riddle of who Neymar is; the only problem is Neymar isn't sure he wants an answer to that riddle. "Leo?"

"Yeah?" Leo sounds awake, his voice soft but alert. Neymar almost wants to reassure him that he's fine, but he can tell that this'll be a night where Leo barely sleeps for fear of something taking Neymar from him. There've been many nights where Leo's forgone sleep in favor of holding vigil over Neymar against the infection, and even though it's been treated, old habits die-hard, no amount of reassurance will bring sleep to Leo easily tonight.

"If I go... If I find out who I was, will you still stay with me?" Neymar squeezes his eyes closed tighter, and buries himself closer to Leo. It feels like a stupid question and the quiet laugh Leo gives makes Neymar feel like a fool for asking.

"I love you, you idiot. I'm not going anywhere." Leo kisses the top of Neymar's head, and Neymar fidgets slightly. It's easy to say that. It's easy to be convinced of something that you can't begin to fathom. The truth of who he was might be terrible. He might have been nothing more than a monster, and that's why he was abandoned, but Neymar can't bring himself to argue not right now, not when he's so tired. "Go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere." Leo repeats his words, and Neymar nods, settling into sleep. As good as it is to hear I love you, that's not the phrase Neymar needs to hear most of the time. Being loved is wonderful, he won't deny that, but for him I'm not going anywhere is more important. For Neymar being alone was a necessity, but not one he'd ever enjoyed. Waking up in that hospital alone had been terrifying, leaving it so easily had been brutally painful. He'd left knowing no one was there for him; he'd left knowing nothing of who he was, nothing of how the world worked, nothing at all. He'd been alone, brutally alone, and horribly vulnerable. He'd been afraid, so afraid for so long, but then he'd met Leo. Leo who'd hung around even when he didn't have to. Leo who'd been impossible to shake off. Leo who'd stayed. Leo who wasn't going anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and kudos will be deeply appreciated.
> 
> After this chapter new characters will appear and this is the turning point in this story.


	8. God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I think Coutinho fits the doctor role better because, him and Neymar are kind of childhood friends and I love Phil so much.

Scurriers are strange creatures. The subdivisions they fall into at times confound Leo. He's observed so many odd little factions of them. Capitalists, socialists, philosophers, scientists, sheep, all different factions of the great scurrying masses. Some factions recruit from the white whales and the ones that do puzzle him the most. The biggest crossover faction by far is the religionists.

Religion isn't a concept Leo has ever gotten behind. In all of his contemplations on the conundrum of life, he's never found a spot for a creator. If there is a God, it's a merciless deity, one that offers no reward to its devotees. Religious people, be they scurriers, white whales, or homeless are mysteries to Leo. Faith, belief is something so powerful, but given away so cheaply. The lives of those who are religious are lives led by cowards. Lives spent trusting in some invisible force, lives spent being unable to face up to the realities of the fact they are ultimately responsible for their own actions, the fact that life isn't fair, there's no Final Judgment, good people aren't always rewarded, and the wicked don't always face justice. People live one life, then they die. No gods, no heroes. That's the way of the world Leo lives in. He doesn't have time to place his faith in imaginary beings in the sky, or the rocks, or wherever it is the religionists think their deity hides. For Leo there are facts, cold hard facts. No gods, and no heroes, there's no room for them.

There'd been no god to pray to as he'd watched Neymar sleep with the infection, his skin burning with a clammy fever. There'd been no hope of a hero during the days that Leo had been convinced that he'd lose his lover. As much as he'd been certain that he'd fight Death itself to keep Neymar, he'd been sure he might actually have had to. It'd been close. When the doctor had said that Neymar could have, should have died, Leo's heart had been in his throat. He'd been aware that Neymar was close to death, but that close, so close that a doctor was surprised he was still alive, had left Leo with dread. Neymar dying had been a real and likely outcome of that lump. There might be no god in Leo's life, but in that moment he'd offered gratitude to something, what he wasn't sure, but definitely something, medicine and that doctor more than likely.

There's no god in Leo's world, but there is science, and science had saved Neymar. Now it's down to Leo to keep Neymar alive, to keep him safe whilst he heals. The aftermath of this illness is something Leo's uncertain of. It's not likely that with the pus squeezed out Neymar'll be right as rain tomorrow. It's far more likely that recovery will take time, time that Leo wants Neymar to spend somewhere with a roof, somewhere warm, somewhere dry. He won't let Neymar end up back on the streets. The money the doctor gave Neymar is a start, but it's finite. It won't last forever, so Leo's going to have to find some way to keep topping it up. This motel room isn't much, but for now, it's something, and Leo means to hold on to it for as long as possible.

That night Leo can't sleep. They have a roof over their head for their heads for the first time in years. No matter how much they save from the various enterprises they engage in, neither Leo nor Neymar ever seem to have enough money gathered to keep a motel room for more than a few days. The money the doctor gave them will last a while, a good long while, and it's something Leo's uncomfortable with. No gods, no heroes, but in this moment this doctor is all but both. He saved Neymar's life, he gave them enough money to keep themselves safe and warm for weeks, even based solely on these actions the doctor may as well be a god to Leo and Neymar, but that's not all the doctor can do for them.

Neymar's past, who he was before he was on the streets, has always been a mystery. Neymar doesn't know, and no matter how much time Leo spends looking online in the library, he can't find any information, though that might be because Leo has no idea where to start looking. The doctor knew who Neymar was though, he knew Neymar's former self. This doctor saved Neymar's life, and now he can give a portion lost to him for so long back. Neymar could find out all of the little details he's forgotten. He could finally learn his birthday, could finally know how old he is, what his surname is, where he was born. The little things that so many people take for granted the little things Neymar doesn't know, that he can't even guess at. Leo wants that information for Neymar. He wants it for himself too, but mostly he wants Neymar to know fully know who he is. This doctor is the key to unlocking Neymar's past, and if Neymar will accept his offer isn't something Leo's sure of. It'd be good for him; at least Leo thinks it would be. If Neymar knew who he was, he might feel better, but in all honesty knowing who he was isn't going to change a lot. Even with his past revealed to him, Neymar's still going to get headaches, he's still going to forget most things, he's still going to have random mood swings, and bouts of all-encompassing dizziness that leave him trembling in Leo's arms.

Knowing wouldn't make Neymar whole, but it'd give him something back. This doctor can give Neymar something that Leo never could. This doctor is far more capable of saving Neymar than Leo is, but he wasn't there for Neymar. Leo has many questions for this doctor, and the first is why was Neymar alone? Why wasn't there someone there for him? Where the fuck was everyone when he was in that hospital? Why didn't anyone want to save Neymar? They're burning questions, ones that Neymar no doubt wants to know the answers to, but there’s also no doubt that Neymar will be afraid of the answers to those questions. He doesn't think he was a good person. Leo knows that Neymar thinks he was left alone in that hospital for a reason, he knows that Neymar is half-convinced that he forgot the life of he had, because he was a terrible person, and nothing of him is worth remembering. Neymar might have a point, but Leo isn't so sure. He's almost certain that there has to be a good reason for Neymar to have woken up alone after the accident. He can't believe that his Neymar wasn't always the sweetly contradictory creature he is now. Neymar has to have been a good person, because Neymar is. Then again, it might be that Neymar is a good person because he's forgotten who he was. The whole thought process is painfully circular; it keeps Leo awake far longer than he's happy about, but one good thing about insomnia is he gets to lie and watch Neymar sleep. There's little more reassuring that holding Neymar in his sleep. Neymar sleeps so well in Leo's arms, he sleeps so deeply, so soundly, that there's a silly part of Leo that puffs up in pride at how safe Neymar feels with him.

The first rays of sunshine wake Leo from his hard won sleep. Neymar's curled up beside him, his head resting on the same pillow as Leo's, his hand clamped in Leo's shirt. He makes a soft noise as Leo gently pries his fingers from the fabric, his eyelids twitching as though threatening to open.

"Shh, Neymar... Stay asleep." Leo soothes him softly, pressing a kiss to the scar on his forehead. Whilst it's the day after Christmas, Leo's certain that somewhere nearby will be open and selling food. Scurriers hate to miss the opportunity to make money, which is okay with Leo, because he needs to stock up some, and maybe take a look to see if there are any help wanted ads in store windows. This motel room will act as point of contact for as long as the money will hold out, before it runs dry Leo needs to find a job, with nowhere to call back to, scurriers will be less likely to employ him. Once Neymar's better, he too can look for work, and with both of them employed keeping this little room will be much easier. It's a simple plan, but Leo has faith in it for that very reason. Simple works best in this world.

Leo slips from the bed, and starts pulling on his clothes. He's going to have to get some more respectable looking attire if he's going to land a job, but it's not a major concern in that moment. The many layers of his homeless outfit will serve as a good barrier against the wind he can hear howling outside.

"You leaving?" Neymar's voice is quiet; he's sitting up in bed, but only just. He's shaky; the dark rings under his eyes painfully visible even in the low light.

"I'm gonna go get us something to eat." Leo forces a smile to his lips, despite the fact that Neymar looks like Death warmed up. He might have been saved, but it was too close. His being alive is nothing short of a Christmas miracle. Leo can't help but want another miracle though. He wants Neymar to remember this little room. It's incredibly unlikely, but there's a part of Leo that'd like Neymar to remember that this is the motel room they first had sex in. The bed Neymar's in is the first place Leo took him, the first place Neymar blew him is here, the first time they lay eating melted ice cream and watching Harry Potter was in this very place. It was a foolish little bit of sentimentality that led to Leo to bringing them back here, but there are times he's sentimental, times he's wants to try and jog Neymar's terrible memory with places they've been before. Whilst it never works, Leo keeps trying, keeps hoping to inspire some kind of memory in Neymar.

"Kay." Neymar smiles slightly, and flops back down. "I'm gonna go back to sleep." He mutters, and Leo can feel a smile stretching his lips. There are no gods, no heroes in Leo's world, for him there's only Neymar, and he means to be Neymar's hero if nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed reading this so far please leave a comment/kudos, your opinion will be deeply appreciated.
> 
> ALSO, let me know what you think about the doctor.


	9. Neymar

The next few days Neymar spends lost in a thick haze of drowsiness. When he's not sleeping, he's lying curled up by Leo, feeling his fingers gently stroking over his skin, and Leo's heartbeat under his ear. He can't really remember much from that period of time, mostly just strange feverish dreams, and a pervasive sense of loneliness. It's strange that he should feel lonely, from what he can tell the only time Leo's left this room is to get food. Despite never really been alone in this room, he can't help feeling lonely, even with Leo lying beside him, Neymar feels painfully alone, and he can't offer a good reason as to why. He's not alone, he's with Leo, but there's loneliness seeping through his bones, a hollow feeling he can't shake.

"You okay?" Leo's voice cuts through the silence of the room, his hand squeezing Neymar's shoulder. Neymar's lying cradled against his chest, the sound of Leo's slow steady heartbeat had been lulling Neymar into a doze, easing him out of his strange maudlin mood, and into sleep.

"I've no idea." Neymar mutters as honestly as he can. He truly has no idea if he is, or isn't okay. His mind is decidedly avoiding thinking about things he should. The slip of paper is still lying on the table by the bed, a little crinkled, and folded many times. Leo's clearly been preoccupied with it whilst Neymar has been lying sleeping the immediate aftermath of the infection off.

"You look more awake." Leo tilts Neymar's face up, a smile spreading over his lips as Neymar nuzzles against his hand. Neymar feels more awake, he actually feels like he'd be up to showering, and eating proper food, rather than the soup that Leo's been feeding him for the last few days. "You want something to eat?"

"Leo." Neymar forces himself up some more, moving so he's braced over Leo, smiling down at him. "Kiss me?" Neymar thinks that request was given too tentatively. A hint of concern flits though Leo's eyes before he tangles his hand in Neymar's hair, and pulls him down into a gentle kiss.

"You feeling better?" Leo's hand cradles his face, his thumbs stroking over Neymar's eyebrows slowly. There's a look in Leo's eyes, a calm focused look that doesn't waiver as he stares at Neymar. It's a look that Neymar feels at once vulnerable and safe under. When Leo looks at him like that, Neymar knows that no harm will ever come to him. This look is the physical manifestation of Leo's promise to stay with him; it's a look that Neymar places all of his faith in.

"I think I could stay awake for a few hours at least." Neymar grins, and kisses Leo again. "I'm gonna shower... Brush my teeth if nothing else." Neymar's mouth tastes terrible, his teeth feel furry, and whilst he's kind of used to that, in this motel room, they have toothbrushes, toothpaste, and the water needed to facilitate good dental hygiene, not taking advantage of that would be remiss.

"You think you'll be able to stay upright long enough to get cleaned?" Leo chuckles as Neymar slips from the bed. His knees feel strangely weak. All in all he feels shaky and frail like a newborn kitten. "I got you." Leo's arms are around Neymar's waist quickly, holding him up, and close to his chest. "C'mon, I could use a shower too." Leo's laugh is warm and soft in Neymar's ear, his breath far sweeter than Neymar's used to. It seems that Leo's been making use of the ability to brush his teeth as often as he likes.

Though they shower together, it's mostly Leo who's in charge of getting them actually clean. Neymar's a lot more tired than he'd thought, or at least a lot less coordinated than he'd hoped. The vague attempts he makes at washing Leo end up in little more than accidentally tender caresses that have Leo moaning, then cursing softly, and taking the washcloth from him. Leo is more focused on bathing than arousing, and whilst Neymar would definitely let Leo have sex with him, Leo's very careful when it comes to sex. He always wants Neymar to fully enjoy what's happening, and as such they not been together since long before the infection. Whilst Neymar understands Leo's motivation, he wants to feel Leo moving inside of him, wants the feeling of being wrapped up in, and filled with Leo. Though perhaps not just yet, because he is perhaps still a little too frail for sex.

"Have you decided what you're going to do about the doctor?" Leo murmurs in Neymar's ear as they stand under the warm spray of the shower. They're far past clean, but Leo seems to enjoy staying under the water until its warmth is used up.

"I don't know... I don't think it'd be of any use." Neymar lets his head flop back against Leo's shoulder, the warm water hitting him in the face. "He could tell me any old shit, and I'd have no way of proving him wrong."

"Don't you want to know something though? Simple stuff that we can confirm easily?" One of Leo's hands is stroking down Neymar's stomach.

"It sounds to me like you're more interested than I am." Neymar moans softly as Leo's hand cups his balls, squeezing them lightly.

"I'm interested, but I think it'd be good for you... I think that knowing even just a little would... I don't know how to say it, Ney." Leo presses a kiss to Neymar's temple, his hands moving to rest on Neymar's hips. "Even just a little information will give you something back, something you lost, something I can't give you."

"Leo... I don't need any of that back... I'm happy the way we are." Neymar turns in Leo's arms, and kisses him lightly. "But I'll talk to the doctor for you, I'll find out my birthday if nothing else." Leo laughs, one of his hands coming up to tangle in Neymar's hair.

"Good, I'll finally know when to buy you a present." Leo laughs once more, and kisses Neymar again. "C'mon, water's getting cold."

"If I call him, the doctor... If I talk to him, you'll-"

"I'm not going anywhere, Neymar. No matter what he says, no matter what you find out, I'm right here." Neymar nods slightly at Leo's words, his eyes falling closed. "I love you, I'm not going anywhere." Neymar nods once more, and forces a bright smile to his lips, forces himself to look like he fully believes Leo's words. It doesn't matter how many times Neymar hears them, there's always a little part of him that doesn't believe, a little part that thinks he'll be left alone once more.

Later that week, with Leo out hunting for work, Neymar nervously makes the call to the doctor. The phone ringing sounds almost painfully loud in his ear. It rings so long that Neymar considers hanging up, assuming the doctor isn't home or is busy, but eventually he answers.

"Hello?" He sounds tired, and Neymar feels incredibly guilty for calling. Doctoring is hard work, with long hours, and he's probably roused the doctor from his hard-earned sleep. Talking to Neymar was more than likely an offer he made to be polite, not one he'd expected Neymar to takes him up on.

"Dr. Coutinho... It's uh..." Neymar isn't sure what to say next, he's not sure what name he should use.

“Ney? Fuck... I didn't think you'd call." The doctor sounds relieved, ridiculously relieved, and Neymar finds himself feeling painfully uncomfortable. He's not sure what he'd expected from this but to feel relieved and almost happy wasn't it. "I'm glad you did. How are you? Has the infection come back? Have you been eating? Did you find somewhere to stay? You can-"

"I want to talk to you." Neymar interrupts the doctor before he finishes that sentence. Neymar has the terrible feeling he was going to offer to let Neymar stay with him, and the idea isn't something that sits comfortably with him. This doctor has already saved his life, and provided him with a roof over his head; actually staying in the man's home would be too much charity even for Neymar to accept.

"Okay." The doctor says plainly, and Neymar stalls for what to say next. "I'm free this afternoon, you can come to my place, or I can meet you somewhere else, somewhere neutral if you'd prefer."

"No, your place is okay." Neymar suddenly wishes he'd not said that, somewhere neutral would have been better, safer if nothing else.

"Alright, you have my address? You didn't lose the paper I gave you, did you?" The doctor laughs softly, and Neymar isn't sure what he's laughing at. Perhaps Neymar had had a habit of losing things, and the memory is amusing to the doctor.

"I have it... What time is okay?" Neymar fiddles with the slip of paper in his hands, staring down at the neat writing giving the doctor's address.

"Any time after one. Just knock on the door, I'll be in." There's a soft edge to the doctor's voice, a kindly tone that makes Neymar feel at once on edge and relaxed.

"Okay, after one." Neymar finds himself nodding pointlessly, knowing the doctor can't see him, but feeling the need to nod like a fool anyway.

"I'll see you then, Ney. I'll see you later?" Neymar's surprised that the doctor made that a question, but only a little. It seems that for all his relaxed tone the doctor is as nervous as Neymar, though he's much better at hiding it.

"Later, Dr. Coutinho." Neymar hangs up, and flops on to the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The dingy little motel room is quiet, oppressively so, and he's not sure he feels comfortable in this little room. He wants Leo to be there, but he's out looking for work. He's been mostly gone all week, and Neymar's been cooped up in this room alone. He understands, he knows that at least one of them needs a regular income to keep this room, but there's a part of him that misses waking up in Leo's arms, a part of him that misses sitting on the streets by Leo, talking aimlessly of the wonders of life. It's all pointless to think of though, because Leo has decided that they're staying in this motel room for as long as possible. It'll be okay, Neymar will adjust to not spending as much time with Leo, and he'll be there when he's not looking for work, or working at the job he'll eventually find. They'll manage. They managed on the streets, and they'll manage off of them.

 

"So who am I?" Neymar blurts the words out without really thinking about them. It's basically the one question he has, the one thing he needs to know. The doctor, Phil he needs to remember to call him that, looks at him blankly for a few seconds before chuckling softly, and shaking his head.

"I can't tell you that... I don't know who you are. Who you were, that I can help with, a little at least." There's painful little smile on his face, an expression that hurts to look at, he has a heartwarming smile, showing off his perfect white teeth, beautiful is the first word that comes to Neymar's mind, and Neymar can't bear to meet the man's kind brown eyes.

"Fine, fine... Who was I?" Neymar sighs, glancing around the expensive looking apartment. He feels out of place here, had felt out of place shuffling up to the door in the first place. This isn't a place for someone like him. This is a place of wealth, of someone used to a comfortable life with soft beds, and hot water on demand.

"Who were you... Jesus... I don't even know where to begin, Neymar." Phil sighs, and steps away from the door, waving Neymar in. "Sit down... You want something to drink?" Neymar takes a seat on the couch, nervously picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, staring around the room. It's spartan, like someone had taken all the decoration down, and never put up anything to replace it, like a show house, somewhere to take people to give them a blank canvas to project what could be their home.

"My name... What's my name? There has to be more to it than just Neymar." Neymar looks nervously at the doctor as he takes a seat on the other couch. He looks as uncomfortable as Neymar feels, as though he'd hoped this would be easier, that Neymar would somehow magically remember something about him.

"Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior." A slight smile spreads over Phil's lips, some tiny fond expression that Neymar hadn't expected, and isn't sure what it means. He's not sure if he was as bad at reading people before the accident as he is now, most expressions people wear are utterly bewildering to Neymar. The little social cues and indicators that most people can read and understand are a foreign language to him. Leo is the only exception to this, years of being in each other's company has taught Neymar how to read Leo.

“Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior? Eww..." The little noise of distaste is out without being thought of, and Neymar turns his gaze down to the blandly beige carpet, feeling foolishly childish, and deeply embarrassed.

"Yeah. You always said Neymar was a weird name and a little girlish." Phil laughs, and Neymar looks up at him. Phil's watching him carefully, his eyes unwavering in their focus on him, but as ever the emotion is utterly foreign to Neymar.

"I was right." Neymar laughs nervously, fussing with the loose thread once more. It's strange talking to this man, strange being in his home, strange to have finally learned his name.

"Still the same as ever, Ney." Phil laughs, but something about what he just said sticks with Neymar, something about the way he said Ney that he thinks he recognizes.

"What?" The tone Neymar uses is slightly too sharp, and he feels a tad guilty for it, especially when Phil smiles awkwardly, looking away from Neymar, fussing with the cup he picked up from the table, taking a quick drink from it.

"Huh?" The awkwardly strained smile on Phil's face doesn't let up.

"What did you call me?" Neymar has the distinct feeling he should let this go, but he wants to know what that little slip, because it was clearly a slip, meant.

"Ney?" Phil finally looks in his direction, but he doesn't meet Neymar's eyes, instead he stares at the wall just behind him.

"The way you said it... it feels familiar." What Phil had said is slipping from Neymar's mind like a plastic bag in the breeze, and Neymar's attempts at wheedling more information on it fall flat as Phil shakes his head slightly, and sighs.

"No... No, I..." A pain fills the doctor's eyes, an old, dark, brutal pain, and Neymar decides to let this go rather than bother him with it further, but he hadn't called him Neymar, he'd called him something else, something fonder, something Neymar vaguely remembers from before, at least he thinks it's from before, he can't be sure. There's very little Neymar can be sure about.

"When's my birthday?" Neymar changes the line of questioning, trying to expand on his meager information about himself. He wants to be able to bring Leo more information than just his name. It's strange, but the majority of the motivation for coming here is Leo. Neymar wants to be able to provide some knowledge to Leo to help him unravel the mystery that is Neymar's past; he wants the information for Leo even more than he wants it for himself.

"Hmm?" The doctor seems distracted. He shakes his head once more, finally meeting Neymar’s eyes again.

"My birthday, when is it? I think it must be June... I always feel like there's something important that happens in June, so I figure it must be my birthday." Neymar smiles at him. He's almost certain his birthday has to be in June. Every year he has the distinct feeling that something important to him happens then, and to him it makes sense that it'd be his birthday. A look of surprise flits over Phil's face briefly, and Neymar isn't sure why.

"No... It's." Phil takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, his eyes closing tightly for a second, before he looks at Neymar once more. "Your birthday's February fifth."

"Really? What the fuck happens in June?" Neymar's surprised, but he's certain that something big has to have happened to him in June. "Was my accident then?"

"No... I..." Phil sighs, and rubs his face. "I don't think there's anything that'd be important to you in June, Neymar, not anymore anyways." He sets his cup down, and rests his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

"Huh... Not anymore? I don't understand." Neymar leans forward on the couch he's perched on. This feels like a very odd conversation to be in. He'd come for answers, not riddles, riddles are Leo's thing, Neymar wants clarity, not more confusion.

“June twelfth is my birthday." Phil mutters, and Neymar leans back on the couch, a strange feeling he can't quite understand filling him. It wasn't the answer he was expecting, but clearly his doctor was important to him, yet he can't remember a single thing about the man. A low throbbing pain starts to building in his head, and Neymar automatically rubs at his scar.

"Your birthday?" He parrots back, and Phil nods, not looking away from the ceiling. "Were we..." Neymar fidgets, he knows what he wants to ask, he knows that he wants to know the exact nature of his relationship with this doctor, but he's not sure how to ask the question. If he and Phil were lovers he wants to know as soon as possible, he wants to know so he can find out why he was left alone in that hospital.

"Were we what?" Phil seems to be overly focused on the ceiling, and Neymar chances a glance up at it. The entire thing is covered in random doodles, odd little pictures that seem sorely familiar to Neymar. His head gives another throb of pain, and he looks away from the doodles, forcing them from his mind.

"Were we friends?" It's a far milder version of the question Neymar wants to ask. The evasive way that Phil is acting, the odd awkwardness between them, it all leads Neymar to think there might have been more than friendship between them. Even if they were lovers, Neymar doesn't remember, and he's sure he doesn't want to dwell on the idea too much. If they were lovers, something must have broken their relationship before the accident, Phil doesn't seem like the type to abandon people.

"We were. We stopped speaking after we graduated from college." Phil sounds unhappy with his answer, and Neymar thinks that there must be more to it, but whatever it is Phil's clearly not keen on sharing. It's most likely that they were lovers in college, but something happened that lead to their relationship falling apart, something big, something that left Neymar all alone. It's a good explanation for why Neymar was alone when he woke up, there was no one left in Neymar’s life to dote on him in a hospital bed. It's a neat answer, but it doesn't feel quite right to Neymar, and the more he thinks on it the more his head throbs.

"Why?" Neymar tries to prompt more out of Phil wanting some clarity to try to clear the headache he can feel building, but Phil merely shakes his head.

"It doesn't matter, Neymar." He says softly. "You want some tea?" He stands, and leaves the room with his empty cup. Neymar follows him, wanting to be away from the doodles on the ceiling, and the thoughts of his past relationship with Phil. He's hoping for some piece of information to click with him, and for all of his memories to fall into place, but it's not likely to happen. "How's your back?" The doctor asks softly as he flicks the kettle on, not looking at Neymar.

"It's okay... A little red still." Neymar mutters, and the doctor turns to him, his eyes narrowed.

"Let me see. I don't want you getting a secondary infection." His tone is coolly professional, his demeanor entirely changed. "You're still too thin... Have you been eating? I know that good food is expensive, but getting the right balance is very important for your recovery, Neymar... I don't want you think it's charity, but I've some stuff for you to take with you. Nothing too fancy, I promise." He laughs softly, and all Neymar can do is nod slightly, and fidget under his earnest gaze. "Turn around, let me see the infection site." Neymar finds himself complying with the orders. It's far easier to handle being around this doctor when he's being a doctor.

"I don't... I... Thank you... The food, the money you gave me... This. Thank you, Phil." Neymar mutters, and behind him he can feel the doctor's body heat far more keenly than the press of his fingers against Neymar's lower back.

"It's nothing, Ney..." Phil's fingers linger just a little too long, and Neymar isn't sure what he should do. If he steps away, the doctor's kindness might run dry, but if he pushes further than just touching Neymar's healing back then Neymar's not entirely sure what to do. "Well, it looks like it's healing nicely." The closeness stops being a problem quickly enough. The doctor steps away from Neymar, and washes his hands quickly, keeping his back turned as Neymar rights his clothes. "Your head... Do you take anything for the pain?"

"Pain? How did-"

"You were rubbing the scar..." Phil fetches another cup, and adds some tea leaves to it. "Here, have some tea with me." He smiles slightly as he pours water into the cup, and drags a cookie jar over, opening it, insisting that Neymar takes one, then another, and another after that.

They talk for a while, the topics safe, and bland. Phil telling tales of the hospital, and a couple of little anecdotes from their time together in college. Those little stories made Neymar want to remember that time so badly. It sounded like they'd had the best time together, and it makes him wonder even more what happened to make them fall out and not talk to each other. Eventually though, Neymar feels like he should be making a move. He's taken up the doctor's entire afternoon, and he should be going back to the motel. Leo will be back soon, and Neymar misses him more than he can really express, even to himself. He doesn't want to miss time he could be spending with Leo indulging in nothing more than eating cookies, drinking tea, and wasting Phil's time.

"I should get going... I think I've troubled you long enough." Neymar smiles awkwardly at the doctor. A look of something at once guilty and offended comes over Phil's face.

"You've not troubled me. I'm sorry I've not been very helpful, Neymar. I wasn't sure what you'd want to know, so I didn't have anything prepared. My next day off is a week tomorrow... Come over? Same time... I'll look some stuff out, some things that might be interesting." A slight smile spreads over Phil's lips. He looks hopeful that Neymar will accept his offer, and Neymar thinks that he will.

"My signature, could you find my signature?" Neymar offers a slight smile to Phil, getting an oddly high-pitched bark of laughter.

"You wanna try forging your own cheques? I'll look, Neymar... I'm sure if nothing else I've got a handwriting sample somewhere... You used to write me the strangest notes when we were in college. You'd leave them in the weirdest places." Phil laughs, and Neymar stares at him blankly.

"Still can't believe I went to college?" Neymar can't even begin to process the idea of himself being in higher education. He's surprised that the information the doctors imparted to him seems to be sticking, but once he's outside Neymar intends to write it all down on the little notepad he stole from the motel room just in case.

"Well, you did." Phil smiles fondly, nostalgia coloring his expression. "If it wasn't for college, we'd have never met." His smile grows, clearly lost in his memories. Neymar wonders if he remembered would he look back on those times as fondly as the doctor. He thinks he might, but that might be wishful thinking on his part.

"I don't remember." Neymar mumbles awkwardly, and Phil's smile falls away. "Next week should be okay with me. Will I call before I come over?"

"Neymar... Where are you staying? I can take you." There's a surprising amount of concern in Phil's expression. The sort of level of concern Neymar's only ever seen on Leo's face.

"I can walk. It'll be fine." Neymar forces a bright smile to his lips, and the doctor looks torn between insisting, and letting Neymar do as he wishes.

"I... Alright. Here, before I forget." The doctor goes over to the big fridge, and pulls out a large bag, thrusting it towards Neymar. "Fruit, vegetables that you can eat raw..." He pauses, and stares at Neymar, his eyes roaming over Neymar's face quickly. "Fuck... I'm so..." The doctor looks close to tears, and Neymar takes the bag from him, wanting to break the awkward moment he's in no way equipped to deal with. The bag is heavy, the weight almost making Neymar want to take the doctor up on his offer of a ride back to the motel, but he wants the time it'll take to walk to try to make sense of what he's learned today. He wants to pick out the information that might interest Leo. It's strange, but Neymar's entirely sure that the doctor's birthday isn't something Leo will be told, and he can't really say why that is.

"It'll be okay, Phil." Neymar pats his shoulder once, a weak smile on his lips. He's no idea if it will be okay, or what it actually is, but Phil seems to take some solace in Neymar's words. "I'll see you next week?" Neymar calls as he leaves the kitchen.

"Next week, Ney." The reply is soft, one Neymar almost doesn't hear as he takes one last look at the ceiling. He's sure he knows those doodles, and he's sure he knows the tone of the doctor's voice when he calls him Ney, but he's no idea from where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Ney finally talked!
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
> AND, If you're interested in reading a Coutinho/Neymar fanfiction 'Anchor' is waiting for you to be read with a cup of hot chocolate. please check it out.


	10. Ronaldo & Ramos

Perception is a skewed thing in the world of the scurriers. For them what they perceive is more important than what is true. As a member of the homeless looking like a member of the homeless, Leo would have been thrown out of this nice, clean store. The perception of him clad in thick layers, with spots of duct tape here and there to keep the cold out, was that he would try to shoplift, that he'd be trouble in one way or another. Today, however, he's not dressed as member of the homeless. Today he's dressed in a thrift store suit that he picked up cheap, a suit that in a rare stroke of luck fits him well, and is comparatively new. His shoes are shiny, and his hair's a slightly neater than normal fluffy mess. Today, Leo looks like a scurrier, and the other scurriers are treating him as such. The cashier smiles at him, the other customers are polite, and it's strange, horribly strange. In this moment, Leo is deceiving them all into thinking he's one of them when he's not. The reality is Leo's nothing more than a homeless guy in a second-hand suit, but perception is more important than truth, cold hard facts have nothing on what scurriers perceive.

The walk back to the motel always feels strangely like a walk of shame. He's not managed to find a job yet, and each time he goes back to the room without one he feels a little more like he's letting Neymar down. He might be trying to be Neymar's hero, but Leo's never been able to save himself. It's nothing more than foolish arrogance to believe that he can save Neymar, yet he won't stop trying. Neymar inspires the need to be more than he is in Leo, the need to be a savior, a protector. It's a need Leo wants to fulfill again, and again, never heeding the cold hard fact that needs can never be fully satisfied. For Neymar, Leo will gladly attempt the impossible.

"Hey!" Neymar's always there waiting for him, always wearing a smile, always wrapping him up in a warm embrace, always being Leo's home. He's never felt as whole as when he's with Neymar. Life is a riddle, and Leo's certain that the solution to that riddle is his relationship with Neymar. With Neymar by his side, it feels like he could solve any problem life chooses to throw his way.

"Hello." Holding Neymar is like finding the toy in the bottom of a cereal box, wrapping his arms around Neymar's body is like being handed a first place trophy, and Leo never tires of it. "You get up to anything exciting today?" There's a bag on the sideboard in the room, a big plastic bag that looks full, and Leo's not sure what Neymar could have been out buying. The bag itself is printed with some unknown store's logo, something that looks expensive, which is totally at odds with Neymar's nature. Leo wanders over to the bag, and starts rooting through it. "Humus?" He holds up a small tub, and Neymar shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips.

"I went to see the doctor today. We had a chat, he gave me humus." Neymar laughs, and comes over to Leo, plastering himself against Leo's back. "I like you in a suit... You look classy." Neymar starts pressing soft little kisses to the back of Leo's neck. He seems far stronger than he has over the last few days, far more awake, and more likely to stay that way, but still delicate, still fragile. As nice as Neymar's kisses are, Leo knows he's not recovered enough for Leo to return those more exploratory pecks.

"Classy, but still unemployed. Carrot sticks, celery... I don't even know what this is." Leo holds up another little tub, the scrawl on the lid is smudged making it hard to read. "So, did the doctor say anything interesting?" Leo piles the food back in the bag, and turns in Neymar's arms, drawing him into a carefully delicate kiss.

"I wrote the important stuff down." Neymar grins, and fishes a small sheet of paper from his pocket. His large, carefully formed handwriting is easy to read, but strangely young looking. The perception of this person who wrote the words on this piece of paper would be that they were a child writing in with their best letters, not of a fully-grown man.

"February fifth, Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior, huh?" Leo chuckles and Neymar pulls an ugly face.

"Don't call me that." He snaps, stepping away from and around Leo to grab the humus and carrot sticks out of the bag. "Phil told me that I never liked it...” Neymar grins as he sits on the bed. "Grab the celery, and come tell me about your day." Neymar pats the bed beside him. "I've missed you." The perception of how Neymar said that is that it's little more than a flippant comment designed to make Leo happy, but the truth is that Neymar meant it earnestly. Neymar worries about being left alone, Leo knows he does, and whilst the last thing he wants is to leave Neymar for any length of time, he needs to find a job to keep them housed. Being on his own is something Neymar's going to have to get used to. Leo may have to leave for work, but he'll always return home to Neymar. His being alone won't be permanent, Leo won't let it be.

"I missed you too." Leo grabs the celery, and the unknown tub, determined to find out what's inside it. "Today... Well, I bought a cell phone." Neymar raises an eyebrow, and Leo shakes his head slightly. "Pay as you go, it's cheap. I thought it'd be a good idea."

"Yeah, probably." Neymar concedes, and starts eating the carrot stick that he'd dunked in the humus.

"I put in some applications at a few stores nearby, a restaurant, and every bar I walked past... It's all a matter of waiting now." Leo's never really been a big fan of celery, but the humus is pretty good, and covers the odd taste of the vegetable well enough, so he keeps eating it, not yet brave enough for the unknown tub. "So, your birthday, your name, and some humus... Did you get anything else out of the good doctor?"

"That I went to college." Neymar mumbles, and lies down, his hand rubbing at the scar on his forehead. "And a headache." Neymar laughs quietly, and Leo reaches over to stroke his hair. "I don't remember anything about him, but he remembers me, Leo... He knows me, or at least he knew me when I was in college, and I don't even know what the fuck I was studying." Neymar's eyes drift closed, and Leo shifts the food off the bed onto the table beside it, then lies down beside Neymar, cradling him close. "I had to have had a goal, a reason for studying something, but I don't even know what my major was... I had to have been smart. I had to have had money, a house, a family... I was a real person once, Leo, and what am I now?" Neymar snuggles against him tightly, his face pressed against Leo's chest firmly. "Now, I only just found out my name. I only just found out what day I was born, but I didn't think to ask what year. I... All I have is you." Neymar sounds slightly awed as he mumbles that last statement. It would be easy to perceive the all I have is you as an insult, but that perception would be wrong. All I have is you is an endearment, the highest endearment Neymar can offer. All he has, all he wants, all he needs is Leo. Neymar wants Leo to be his hero, so Leo tries. It's all perception, honest perception of cold hard facts, there's no deception, no skewing of reality between them.

"Will you talk to him again?" Leo kisses Neymar's hair, stroking his back over the thick layers of clothing Neymar's wearing. He's still dressed like a member of the homeless despite their tenuous housing, but he's not really had the time or energy to go pick out more scurrier style clothing.

"No... Well maybe..." Neymar sighs, and shakes his head suddenly. "Yes, next week." His tone is oddly firm, and Leo pulls away from him slightly so he can see Neymar's face. "I'm going to talk to him next week. I'll ask what year I was born in... I want to know how much older you are than me." He smiles slightly. Leo shakes his head at him, and presses a quick kiss to his scar.

"I don't care if I’m you sugar daddy, Neymar." Leo chuckles, and pulls Neymar in close once more. "Did he... Did he say how he knew you? Why he wasn't at the hospital?"

"I said." Neymar scoffs softly, and rolls his eyes. "We meet in college, we were roommates. Something happened... We had a falling out, and didn't talk after graduation." Neymar sounds like there's something on his mind about this, but it might be merely perception, because there's always something on Neymar's mind, and he'll share when he thinks it's important.

"So I don't need to worry about him stealing you away?" Leo laughs, and Neymar snorts disdainfully, shaking his head.

"No one could steal me away, Leo, no one." The conviction in Neymar's voice is astounding, and Leo can't think of any way to reply to that comment.

The next morning Leo's back out looking for work, leaving Neymar with a soft kiss, and a promise to check back in around lunchtime. Leo's no idea what Neymar intends to do with his day. He'll be on his own the whole time, and there's a part of Leo's that's concerned that Neymar'll get lonely, but there's nothing to be done. Leo needs to find work, and Neymar's a fully-grown man.

He'd checked the money before he'd left, and the roll of bills is sorely depleted. Finding work is a priority, there's not enough money to last much longer even with the deal he'd managed to strike up with the hotel management. Leo needs to find a job by the end of the week, it's imperative, but that day he returns empty handed. The next day passes much the same until it's Thursday, leaving only tomorrow, Friday, as the last day. They've enough money to cover the next week, and that's it. Tomorrow Leo needs some job, any paying job to keep them afloat.

That night, Leo curls up by Neymar, and worries about their situation, worries about money, about finding a job, about keeping Neymar safe, about Neymar in general. All evening Neymar had been quiet, and distant. His mind is clearly preoccupied with the little information he gained from the doctor. Leo understands that learning even a little about himself is confounding for Neymar, but he wishes Neymar was more at peace with this sliver information about himself. He seems unable to reconcile the fact that the information about who he was is also about who he is now. Leo has no idea how to help him, no idea how to help meld the two together, so all he does is lie holding Neymar close, stroking his back, wishing to be more helpful to him. It hurts knowing that there's nothing Leo can do to help Neymar with this. It's a problem Neymar has to face on his own, and the only person who can help him is the doctor. This isn't something Leo is in any way able to be of use in, and it's infuriating. He always wants to be the one to help Neymar, but when it comes to his past, Leo's beyond worthless.

That morning after leaving the motel room, with Neymar still asleep, Leo heads to the library to start trawling through online jobsites. He's not hopeful of finding something on the Internet, but he figures it won't hurt to look. There's never any harm in just looking. The cell chirps suddenly, and Leo answers after checking the number.

"Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Lionel Messi?" The voice on the other end of the line is slightly high pitched. The accent isn't familiar to Leo, and he doesn't recognize the number, but he supposes it's one of the numerous places he's applied to for a job.

"It is. How can I help?" It feels like he asked the wrong question, because the other person laughs, a grating little sound that has Leo clenching his teeth.

"I'm calling to invite you down for an interview." The person says, and then laughs again. "Sorry, I should have said earlier, I'm Sergio Ramos, from The Aurora nightclub." Leo's eyes narrow as he tries to remember which of the many nightclubs and bars that he's applied to that one is. "The gay bar?" He apparently had been silent too long, and he can feel the back of his neck heating up in embarrassment.

"Yeah, of course I remember." Leo mumbles, wishing he'd made better notes of where he'd left his pitifully small resume.

"Great! Then I'd like for you to come down as soon as you can. Your resume said you were available immediately, and were bar trained." There's an awkward pause, and Leo's not sure how to break it when it lasts a little longer than he's comfortable with. "I won't lie, this isn't an interview. It's a hiring. We're screwed, the last bar tender didn't work out, and we're booked for a big wedding party tonight, and we're basically taking on everyone. There's no guarantee of a job after tonight, but there's at least one solid paycheque in it for you. Come down as soon as you can, and we'll start training you on the cocktails."

"I'll be there by twelve." Leo's already on his feet, and leaving the library. One paycheque isn't much, but if he does a good job, he might get hired permanently, and even if he doesn't it's something else to add to the resume, as well as some more money to add to the pitifully small amount he and Neymar have left.

Leo arrives at the club a little after eleven-thirty. The place is brightly lit, the walls painted a dark grey, the floor black, though the elevated dance podiums are starkly white with gleaming silver cages on top. At night with all the bright lights switched off, it must be a very dark, but Leo supposes that's what scurriers like in their nightclubs. It's easier to persuade people into the perception you want them to have when they can't really see you in the first place.

"Mr. Messi? Hello!" The voice from the phone greets Leo as he wanders through the seemingly empty club. "C'mon in, and we'll get you fitted up for a uniform." The face to go with the voice isn't familiar to Leo, but he's not been paying too much attention to the faces of the people he's been dropping resumes off with. The man's grinning at him, gesturing for Leo to follow him. "So, once you're all in the gear, we'll get started on teaching you the specialty cocktails. Most people order the normal stuff... We've a big sex on the beach market." He laughs, and Leo wonders if he's expecting an answer in amongst his rambling. "But, there's a lot who really go for the house specials... The Cerberus is very popular. It's a layered shot, so you've gotta be careful, can't let the layers be all droopy." He laughs again, and Leo bites back a noise of frustration. This man is clearly fond of the sound of his own voice.

"Mr. Ramos?" Leo interrupts before he can keep talking.

"Huh?" He holds open a door, waving Leo through it into what looks like a locker room. "What is it?"

"I'm just wondering when I start-"

"And when you finish no doubt? And it's Sergio... Mr. Ramos is too-"

"Professional?" Another voice cuts in, a smooth baritone that's laced with amusement. "You'll have to excuse Sergio. He's rather fond of the sound of his own voice." The new comer sticks his hand out, and Leo looks him over quickly. He's tall, with rich golden skin, thick luxurious hair, deep brown eyes, and built like the proverbial brick shithouse. "I'm Cris. Cristiano Ronaldo, co-owner of this place." Leo takes Cristiano's hand, and shakes it quickly once.

"Lionel Messi, one-night only but hoping for more bar tender in this place." Leo laughs uneasily, wishing he'd said something a little smoother, or at least less like a haplessly cheesy chat-up line.

"Hoping for more, eh?" Cristiano smirks, and Leo glances away. He'd hoped this guy would have let him away with that slip, but apparently not. "Well, I guess we'll see based on your performance tonight." He turns away from Leo to Sergio, a look of mild annoyance crossing his face. "Where's his uniform?"

"I was just going to ask his size, Cris." Sergio sneers sharply, and Leo feels desperately uncomfortable with their squabbling, but he needs this job, he needs it for as long as possible, so he's going to have to deal with these two.

"Those shoulders definitely need a small, but ass needs a large... But that itty-bitty waist?" Cristiano chuckles and Leo clears his throat.

"Uh... I'll help you look?" He offers to Sergio. Surprisingly, all Sergio does is nod, and lead Leo over to a closet. Inside there's a selection of weird leather coats that Leo supposes is the uniform for the bar, but the pants look at little too tight.

Once he's kitted out in the right attire, Sergio leads Leo back through to the bar. The few cocktails he shows Leo are fairly complex, but Leo's determined to remember them. This is the first and only job that's called him back, and if they need someone long-term Leo intends to make sure it's him they keep. A few other one night only staffers arrive a little after three, and Sergio seems to revel in having a larger audience for his ramblings. Cristiano remains silently pottering around the club, his eye flickering over to Leo every so often. There's an edge to his gaze that makes Leo feel fidgety. There's a heat in those eyes that Leo isn't sure if he likes being directed at him. It all makes him think of Neymar lying in a motel bed alone. Thoughts Leo needs to chase from his mind so he can focus on listening to Sergio's increasingly meandering orientation speech.

At about five o'clock, Sergio announces that they have two hours to go grab something eat. Leo's sure he wouldn't be able to make it to the motel and back in that time, but he's also sure he wants to talk to Neymar if he can't see him. There's one number saved in the cheap cell phone he bought, and that's the motel's reception. He dials, and requests to be put through to the room he shares with Neymar.

"Hello?" Neymar sounds understandably confused, and Leo closes his eyes trying to picture the expression on Neymar's face.

"Hey baby." Leo murmurs quietly. He's sitting in a cheap little restaurant near the nightclub, a plate of the cheapest meal on the menu in front of him, and a glass of tap water, but it's nowhere near as interesting as hearing Neymar's softly confused voice.

"Leo? What's wrong? Why aren't you home?" A smile spreads over Leo's lips at Neymar calling the motel room home. That's the only reason he's working in this bar, that's the only reason he's going to put on the silly uniform and flirt his ass off to make the customers buy more drinks from him than anyone else. Neymar deserves a home, and whilst for now it's a crappy little motel room with more significance than Neymar realizes, one day it'll be an apartment, then maybe a real house. Leo intends to work until they've secured a home they can be both be proud of, one day the little lean-to shack by a park wall they slept in will be nothing but a hazy nightmare, not the reality of a few weeks ago.

"I've got a job. It's o-"

"A job? Leo, that's great! I'm proud." Neymar sounds genuinely proud of him, and Leo can feel a beaming grin stretching his lips.

"It's not much, just bartending for the night, but it's a start." Leo opens his eyes once more to look at his food. It's not the most appetizing looking fare, but he needs to eat it so he can make it through the night.

"It's a job though, so it's a good start. You'll be back late, won't you?" Neymar trails off, a heavy silence coming from over the phone for a few seconds. "I'll make sure to keep your side of the bed nice and warm for when you're home." He sounds like he's forcing himself to sound upbeat, and Leo forces his mouthful of food down.

"Neymar... I'll be home, you know that." Leo keeps his voice soft and even, filling it with reassurance, but Neymar's not an easy creature to placate sometimes. There are times when his fears get the best of him. Neymar's fear of being abandoned kept Leo from accepting offers of overnight work from johns when they'd been on the streets. His fear of being abandoned kept Leo from searching too far for food when Neymar had been too sick to walk. Neymar's fear of being abandoned keeps Leo close to him, but it's not a tether, it's not a cage trapping Leo, rather it's a fear that lets Leo indulge his own fear of not being enough. His whole life he's been painted with the perception that he's not enough. Not smart enough not clean enough, not attractive enough, not good enough, but for Neymar he's everything. For Neymar, Leo's perfect, and Leo clings to Neymar because of that.

"You said for the night? Do they only need you tonight? Isn't there the chance of any more nights?" Neymar seems to be forging ahead with trying to hide his anxiety, and Leo knows better than to push him. If you push Neymar to open up, he'll clam up instead, and won't say anything for days.

"Maybe. I'll need to be impressive tonight though, so I'm worrying about it first." Leo laughs, and the laugh Neymar gives in returns is halfway believable.

"You're always impressive, Leo. No worries there. When do you start?" There's a rustling sound over the phone, and Leo supposes that's Neymar opening something to eat, probably a pot of instant noodles, which sound about as appetizing as Leo's plate of vaguely recognizable mush.

"Seven sharp. I'm gonna finish up eating, and then go. Be asleep when I get home, okay?" Leo takes another bite of food, washing it down with some water.

"Leo... I'm always asleep." Neymar laughs and Leo smiles slightly to himself.

"You're still healing, Neymar. Sleep is very important to your recovery." Neymar scoffs at Leo's words, a low unimpressed sound.

"I'm sick of being asleep. You'll be tired tomorrow though, so I guess I'll take advantage of my sleepiness to get to cuddle you all day." Neymar chuckles to himself softly, and Leo laughs along with him, pretending to ignore the slightly forced edge to Neymar's laugh.

"Like I'd let you not cuddle me all day." Leo finishes up his food, and glances at the clock on the wall opposite. He should head back to the club; it's almost time to start his first, and hopefully not only, shift.

"Have fun at work, honey." This statement Leo perceives as being given more honestly than several other things Neymar's said in this phone call, he does at least really want Leo to enjoy his work.

"I'll try." Leo downs the glass of water, and stands, tossing a few bills down to cover the cheque, and a modest tip for the waitress. "I should get going. Get some more rest. I'll be home before you know it."

"Yeah... Not likely, Leo." The perception of that comment has Leo aching to be at home, longing to bundle Neymar up in his arms, but that's impossible. He needs to be where he is, he needs this job. "I'll be waiting to hear all about your first day."

"I gotta go, baby. I love you, and I'll be home soon as I can." Leo dodges his way across the street, pausing outside the nightclub.

"I know... Good luck, and Leo, I love you too." There's no way to misperceive Neymar's final words. There's no way to skew them, not that Leo would try though, because there's no way to skew cold hard facts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two new characters.


	11. Neymar

The motel room seems even emptier than usual without Leo there. He's working, sure it's only for a night, but Neymar's certain that he'll be able to persuade whichever bar he's working at that they'll need him longer, sure that Leo'll make himself invaluable. He's incredibly good at becoming vital, though that might only be to Neymar. He's proud of Leo, proud and happy, but alone. The food he ate feels like it was shot through with lead, and it sits in an uncomfortable lump in his stomach, giving him no rest as he lies staring at the ceiling.

Neymar doesn't have many options for ways to spend his time. He's too tired to go out, and all he'd do if he did head out would either be begging or trying to turn a trick. Both of which would be helpful, but they seem counterproductive to the life Leo seems to want to forge for them, so staying in is the only option. Staying put in the motel room means Neymar can either stare at the TV, or think. Thinking hurts his head, but so does the TV; he needs a hobby, or a job, or friends maybe, something other than what he is doing.

He's caught in a loop thinking about his past, and has been since his visit to the doctor's home. They were friends. He, well the person he was, was friends with Phil. At one stage in Neymar's life, he had friends, but since he left the hospital, he's had little more than acquaintances. He never gets close enough to people to let them become his friends. Leo's the only exception, but he's not sure that they're friends. He knows Leo loves him, but if he likes him is another matter. You don't have to like someone to love them; you don't have to be their friend to be their lover.

It's not a good loop of thinking to be caught in, but he's more than a little excited at the thought of getting to talk to the doctor again. He doesn't have too long to wait for that opportunity. The start of next week Neymar can call to arrange another meeting, and he'll be able to glean a little more information about himself, he'll be able to piece together a little more of who he was.

When Leo gets back, it's the early hours of the morning. He's clearly trying to be quiet, but he's also clearly a little drunk, his actions strangely in slow motion. Neymar sits up in bed, watching him carefully peeling his clothes off, and going to shower, all without acknowledging Neymar's presence.

"You alright?" Neymar asks as he draws the shower curtain back. Leo's standing with his eyes closed the water beating down on his face. He barely moves to acknowledge Neymar, his shoulder shrugs slightly, and he makes a vague grabby motion in Neymar's general direction.

"Tired. They want me back tomorrow." Leo's eyes open once he finishes talking, a smile spreading over his lips. "I'm a little drunk... The bosses gave me some beer to celebrate my being hired."

"I can see that." Neymar murmurs coolly. He's never seen Leo drunk before. Neymar doesn't drink, alcohol is expensive, and seemingly Leo was more concerned with saving money and Neymar's distaste for alcohol than drinking when they were on the streets. "They were happy with you?" Leo nods, a big grin spreading over his lips.

"I'm good at my job." He sounds proud, and Neymar can't resent him that pride. It's rare for Leo to seem proud of himself for anything, it's rare for there to be anything to be proud of in the first place.

"I'm proud." Neymar smiles softly at Leo, and pulls his shirt over his head, then sheds his boxers quickly.

"You're showering?" Leo asks, bemusement in his tone. "You didn't shower earlier? Oh." Leo's head falls back against the tiles as Neymar takes his cock in his mouth. Neymar's sure that full sex is out for both of them. Leo's too tired from working all night and Neymar is still recovering, but a blowjob is something he's definitely capable of, and something he's very intent on. Leo's hands cup the back of Neymar's head, offering no pressure, no guidance, just resting there, letting Neymar control the speed at which he moves. It's slow and shallow, Neymar's lips wrapped around the head of Leo's cock, but the soft sounds Leo's making leaves Neymar in no doubt about how good it feels. It's been a long time since Neymar's tasted Leo's cock, and it tastes different to how it did on the street. It's probably the fact that they're both a lot cleaner now, but Leo tastes a lot better than he did in the past. "Oh fuck, baby... You're good at this." Leo's mumbling to himself and Neymar opens his eyes, meeting the hazy gaze of his lover. Neymar deliberately pulls away from Leo's cock, and starts laving at his balls, catching one in his mouth, sucking on it lightly. Leo makes an inarticulate groan of a noise, his nails digging into Neymar's scalp. Eventually Neymar returns to sucking on Leo's cock, one hand moving along the length of the shaft with purpose, the other toying with Leo's balls.

"You close?" Neymar mutters as he draws away to take a deep breath. Leo nods vaguely, and Neymar grins up at him. He takes Leo's cock into his mouth once more, and keeps moving forward, enveloping Leo's entire dick. There's another groan from Leo, and his fingers tighten their grip on Neymar's head. Neymar pulls back slowly, letting the head of Leo's cock rest at his lips for a brief moment whilst he takes another breath.

"Can I fuck you?" Leo mutters, his hands sliding around to cradle Neymar's face gently. Neymar nods up at him, and takes Leo's cock in fully once more. Even though Leo had asked to fuck Neymar, it's not as rough as Neymar had expected, and almost hoped. It's fast, and firm, but not rough. Leo's fingers pressing against his head are sharp little points of pressure, whilst they hurt a little; it's a reassuring kind of pain, the sort of pain that Neymar doesn't mind. Leo's cock moving in and out of his throat is a pale imitation of what Neymar would really like, but Leo's far too close, and Neymar's nowhere ready to be taken the way he'd like, so letting Leo fuck his throat is the best he can manage. When Leo comes, Neymar swallows down his cum, and leans away from him, lapping the last of Leo's cum from the head of his cock.

"I'm proud of you." Neymar grins up at him, and Leo laughs loudly.

"I'm gonna have to make you proud more often then." Leo sinks to his knees, and kisses Neymar. "I'm gonna take care of you, you know that right? I'm gonna keep you safe, keep you warm, and keep you fed... I'm gonna keep you, Neymar... Never letting you go." Leo kisses him once more, and Neymar returns the kiss frantically. Leo has a way with words, a mastery that makes shivers run down Neymar's spine.

"Hmm... C'mon, let's get you to bed. You've had a busy night." Neymar makes no moves to stand though; instead, he kisses Leo, more slowly this time. It's a kiss that he tries to pour everything he has into, a kiss that he wants to reassure Leo that every single promise Leo just made Neymar makes in return. He might still be recovering, but Neymar wants to keep Leo, he wants to protect him, wants to make him happy, wants to make Leo feel safe, wants to make Leo want to stay. Neymar hopes that the kiss conveys his meaning, because the words to express how he feels are always beyond him. He can never find the right way to tell Leo how he feels about him.

The next morning Neymar calls the doctor, clearly waking him up, and they quickly arrange to meet at the same time as last week. Once more Neymar wishes he'd arranged to meet somewhere neutral, but he agrees to meet at Phil's apartment again.

"You're up early." Leo's voice is a little rough, and it jolts Neymar from his thoughts on his meeting with the doctor.

"You should still be asleep. You got back late last night." Neymar slips back into bed by Leo, and nuzzles against him. "So you're working again tonight?"

"Uh-huh... Every night this week." Leo presses a kiss to the top of Neymar's head, then pulls away, tilting Neymar's face up. "You shaved your hair off?"

"Last night... I was sick of washing it. You like it?" Neymar isn't sure if Leo will approve of the short stubble covering his head rather than the curly mess of hair that had been there before, and the look on Leo's face says he isn't sure how he feels about it.

"Hmm... You look-"

"You don't like it, huh?" Neymar smirks. He can't say he's surprised that Leo doesn't like the shaved head, but it's easier to deal with, and Neymar thinks it looks okay if nothing else.

"I didn't say that." Leo scoffs, rubbing his hand over Neymar's head. "It makes your eyes look huge." He yawns, covering his mouth by pressing it against Neymar's shoulder. "It's different, makes you look tough."

"I am tough." Neymar laughs and Leo nods slightly.

"That you are, Neymar, that you are. So why are you up so early?" Leo's fingers are running over the stubble on Neymar's head, carefully tracing the shape of Neymar's skull.

"Was talking to the doctor, I'm meeting him later." Neymar's eyes drift closed under Leo's gentle ministrations. He's always liked the feeling of Leo stroking his hair, and now without hair in the way he likes it even more.

"Oh? That's good. You'll have to make me some more notes." Leo grins, and Neymar nods absently. He'll take another sheet of paper from the notebook so he can jot down the more interesting points for Leo. "You gonna let me cuddle you some more, or do you have somewhere to be?"

"I'm all yours." Neymar smiles, settling himself more comfortably against Leo's chest. There's several hours before he needs to go see the doctor, so he can afford a nap with Leo.

"Good, cause I'm not letting you go." Leo mumbles as he drifts off back to sleep.

As Neymar leaves the motel room a couple of hours later Leo's still asleep, so he scrawls a quick note, setting it down under the cell phone on the bedside table. It's a simple note of little more than I'll not be long, but if I'm not back before you have to go to work - I love you, and have a good night. It's plain, but honest, like so much of what Neymar manages to express for Leo. He doesn't often have the words he wants to express how much he loves Leo, how much he needs him, how much he wants him, so plain and honest have to suffice.

 

"Hey." The doctor's wearing a soft smile when he opens his door. He looks tired, with dark rings under his eyes. Neymar feels a little guilty for taking up his time, but the doctor had offered, and hadn't objected to Neymar coming to him today.

"You're tired Couti?" Neymar laughs at him, and is surprised by the sound of the doctor sucking air in through his teeth sharply. He meets Phil's eyes, caught by the look of pain in them. "What?." Neymar has the feeling he's done something wrong, or at least hurt the doctor somehow, but he's no idea how. He'd only made an admittedly not funny comment about the stubble, nothing more nothing less.

"I know... I know." Phil ushers Neymar further into the house, and closes the door behind him, forcing a smile to his face. It's not often Neymar can tell if someone's smile is false, but the one Phil's wearing is obviously not sincere, and Neymar isn't sure why. "I have a present for you... A couple of presents actually... I... C'mon, first things first you look cold." Neymar follows along behind Phil, wondering if he should have taken his outermost layer off when he'd entered the apartment.

"Its winter, of course I'm cold." Neymar mutters, and the doctor chuckles, gesturing to the couch Neymar had sat on the first time he'd come to visit. Phil heads for the kitchen, leaving Neymar alone in the living room. Neymar glances up at the doodles on the ceiling, trying to work why they're so familiar to him, but he draws a blank, and turns away from them before studying them gives him a headache.

"Here, you always liked hot chocolate." Phil hands Neymar a mug topped off with whipped cream. Neymar takes a sip of the chocolate, and pauses, his eyes falling closed. It's thick, creamy, and ridiculously delicious. When he opens his eyes once more, Phil's standing watching him, a little smile on his face. "It's okay?" Neymar nods dumbly, he doesn't have the words to describe how good it tastes. "Good." Phil disappears into the kitchen once more, and Neymar takes another sip of the chocolate. When he returns, Phil sets a plate of cupcakes down, and then a mug of his own. It doesn't look like he's got hot chocolate, but if he wants to miss out on chocolatey goodness that's his business. He wanders over to somewhere behind Neymar, by the sounds of things he's rooting through a drawer. On his way past Neymar to the other couch, he sets a sheath of papers on the coffee table in front of Neymar.

"What's this?" Neymar sets his mug down and takes up the paper.

"Here, it's the lease for your apartment... A little old, but it's your signature." Phil sits on the couch opposite Neymar, and takes a sip from his own mug.

"My apartment... Where was it?" Neymar stares down at the papers in his hand, at the unfamiliar loopy signature. He can't work out how it's even close to his name, but apparently, it is.

"Here." Phil mutters, taking another sip from his mug.

"This apartment?" Neymar stares at him incredulously. This apartment is big, it has to expensive, and he can't imagine ever being able to afford it.

"Yeah... It was yours." Phil sets his mug down, and smiles awkwardly at him. "I..." He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "I took it on when your lease ran out. I always hoped you'd come home." He laughs softly, and Neymar can't keep looking at him. He was someone important to Phil, and even if they weren't talking to each other there was still hope for reconciliation between them with Phil.

"I didn't even know about this place... The..." Neymar glances up at the ceiling, at the random doodles up there, and Phil nods.

"They were there when I first came here." Phil doesn't expand on that, instead he grabs the shoebox that's sitting beside him, and sets it on the table. "I thought you might like to see these." Phil stands, and comes over to sit by Neymar.

"What is it?" Neymar's surprised that the urge to tense up doesn't come over him when Phil sits beside him. He's close, not quite touching Neymar, but even through the layers of clothes Neymar's wearing; he can feel Phil's presence sharply.

"Photos." Phil grins, and flips the lid off the shoebox. Inside there's hundreds of photographs. Neymar picks the top one out and stares at it. It's a photo of him and Phil. He’s draped over Phil's back, wearing a grin that's as big and goofy as the one on Phil's face. They look happy, relaxed and comfortable in each other's company. It's a nice photo, but it doesn't jog any memories in Neymar at all.

"There's a lot of them in here." Neymar mutters, not looking away from the photo in his hand. The picture's edges are soft, worn from repeated handling.

"Yeah... There's a few, too many for one day, right?" Phil laughs, and takes a handful out of the box, starting to flip through them. "Here, take a look." He hands the stack of photos to Neymar, and then closes the lid of the box. Neymar sets the first picture down, and turns to the top photo in the stack Phil handed him.

"Who are these people?" Neymar gestures to the unknown faces in the picture. Phil moves a little closer, his thigh and shoulder pressing lightly against Neymar's. The proximity should be freaking Neymar out, but instead he finds he doesn't much mind. Phil's warm, and rather than feeling slightly threatened, Neymar feels oddly calmed by the contact.

"That's you." Phil points to one face, and Neymar snorts disdainfully. "What you asked." Phil grins at him, then seems to realize how close they are to each other, and moves back a little, putting some distance between them once more.

"I know that's me... And that's you? Jesus... The frosted tips were atrocious. For your sake I hope I told you that." Neymar smirks over at Phil. There's a part of him that wants to move closer once more, but he's not sure why, so he ignores it.

"Regularly... You were a regular fashion mogul." Phil laughs, and leans over the table to snag his mug.

"One of the many things I've forgotten clearly." Neymar mutters, not looking up from the picture. He knows how he looks, he knows how he's dressed, and not for the first time he's embarrassed by it.

"Oh! Wait here." Phil stands suddenly, and leaves the living room again. "I know it's late for Christmas, and your birthday, but consider it as covering all the ones I've missed, okay?" There's a soft thud beside him, and Neymar stares at the big paper wrapped bundle that landed on the couch.

"Couti-"

"Can you not say that?" Phil says softly, taking a seat on the couch opposite Neymar. Neymar glances up from the package to look at him in confusion. There's a stricken look on the doctor's face, and Neymar's not entirely sure what he's done to cause it. "You don't even realize you've done it, do you?"

"Done what?" Neymar fiddles with the tape keeping the present wrapped, trying to work out what Phil's talking about.

"Nothing... Forget it, open your present." Phil forces a smile to his face, and Neymar tries to keep a scowl from forming on his own. He peels the present open carefully, and stares down at it. "Don't." Phil moves to sit by him once more. "I can hear what you're thinking, and I'm telling you to stop it."

"I can't take this, Phil." Neymar folds the paper back over the bundle of clothes that's inside. It all looked very nice, very warm, and very expensive.

"I'm sure this ensemble is great for where you were, but you're not there anymore, are you?" Phil gently slides the parcel out from under Neymar's clenched fists, and sets it between them on the couch. "Your boyfriend's got you a place to stay, hasn't he?" 

"How'd you know that?" Neymar mutters, refusing to look over that doctor sitting beside him. He can't the clothes in that parcel, he's already taken enough from Phil, he can't take anymore.

"You look cleaner... And I don't think that shelters would have clippers so you could buzz all your hair off." Phil laughs softly, and Neymar rubs a self-conscious hand over his short hair. He knows that without hair he looks odd, but he was getting sick of having to wash it every time he took a shower, and its cozy in the motel room, he doesn't need the hair to keep his head a little warmer. "It suits you... Makes you look kinda..." Phil trails off, and Neymar isn't exactly interested in what he was going to say so he doesn't press. Leo hadn't liked it either, so Neymar thinks he's probably going to have to let his hair grow back, and deal with washing it. "You're not on the streets anymore, so you can-"

"We're only going to end up back there, Phil. This is nice, but it's not useful to me there." Neymar cuts in, and Phil laughs at him.

"You think I'd let you end up in a cardboard box again? You really have forgotten me if you think I'd let that happen to you twice. If I'd known the first-"

"Where were you then?" Neymar snaps, and Phil moves once more, crouching in front of Neymar, leaving him with no choice but to meet Phil's eyes.

"Do you want me to tell you?" Phil sounds reluctant, as though he's genuinely uncertain of the value of telling Neymar why they fell out.

"What did I do, Phil? That picture... We look so..." Neymar closes his eyes, and sighs, not tensing when he feels Phil's finger trace around the scar on his forehead.

"We were friends, Neymar, best friends, but... You did nothing wrong, okay? Nothing that happened with me was your fault. Nothing that happened with a lot of stuff was your fault, it's just life decided to play you a shitty hand." Neymar screws his eyes closed tighter at the doctor's words. This whole conversation is beginning to give him a headache; he can feel it building piece by piece, a low throbbing ache forming in his brain. "C'mon." Phil stands, and offers Neymar a hand. "It'll be weird as hell, but take a shower, and try on your new clothes, hmm? I'll wash your old stuff, stitch up the holes, and you can take it back next week."

"You really gonna let me back in next week?" Neymar stands without taking Phil's hand; instead, he clutches the paper wrapped bundle close to his chest.

"Of course." Phil smiles brightly at him, and leads the way to the bathroom. "Toss the dirty stuff out the door." He turns on the shower, sets a clean towel down near the shower, and leaves the room.

"You didn't buy me panties did you?" Neymar calls as he considers the bathroom, and the running water. It is very strange bathing in what is essentially a stranger's house, but as a whore Neymar's done stranger things.

"You wear panties now? If only I'd known... Just plain old boxers, Ney." Phil calls back, and Neymar tosses his old clothes out of the bathroom door, keeping his hat with him, he feels oddly better with it near him. That nickname burns brightly in Neymar's mind as he bathes, but as ever his recollection of it fades far too quickly, only the little spark of warmth in the pit of his stomach it inspires stays with him.

The clothes in the bundle turn out to be fairly practical, or at least the thermal underwear is if nothing else. The boxers are plain, and came in a multipack, the socks very much the same; the sweater is a little too classy though. Neymar thinks its cashmere or some other overpriced wool, its cloud soft, surprisingly warm, and a deep rich black. The jeans are a little too big in the waist, but with the belt cinched tight they fit well enough. Neymar's tatty boots look incredibly out of place with the whole outfit, and he's going to freeze as soon as he gets outside. He'd given all of his layers to Phil, including his coat, without it he's going to be a popsicle as soon as he steps out the doctor's door. As nice as the clothes are, and as kind as the thought behind them is, Neymar can't help but wonder what the doctor wants for all of this. No one is ever this kind without wanting something in return, and Neymar's not entirely sure what the doctor could want from him.

"I have no idea how you managed to keep warm in this stuff." Phil calls out once Neymar emerges from the bathroom. "It's all tape, and grime." Neymar follows the sound of his voice, and finds him in a laundry room, carefully washing Neymar's overcoat.

"Tape and grime are good insulators." Neymar mutters, coming into the room, and glancing at the washing machine. Inside it he can see flashes of familiar colors, the many layers of his clothes tumbling around in among the suds.

"Hmm, I'll take your word for it." Phil looks up from his work, and stares blankly at Neymar for a few seconds. "Did they fit okay? I guessed on sizes."

"Yeah, fits fine." Neymar shuffles from foot to foot a little, and rubs at the soft sweater sleeve. Then leaves the room to go grab the pile of photos, returning, and standing by Phil.

Whilst Phil cleans Neymar's coat, Neymar leafs through the photos asking after people in each one, finding out things that he almost immediately forgets, asking the same questions over and over, knowing it has to be annoying, but being continually surprised by Phil's patience with him. The repayment for this kindness is going to be steep, Neymar's sure of it.

"Who are they?" The last picture in the bundle is of a middle-aged couple, two people that haven't featured in any other photograph. Phil sighs softly, and turns to Neymar. He's just finished unloading Neymar's coat from the washing machine, and hanging on a drying rack.

"They're your parents." Phil says softly, and Neymar quickly returns to staring at the picture. "Here, another present." Phil hands Neymar another piece of paper. "Your birth certificate." Phil ushers Neymar out of the laundry room and to the living room once more. Neymar all but collapses onto the couch, and stares between the photo and the certificate.

"My parents? Where are they? Why weren't they looking for me?" Neymar runs his finger over the section of the piece of paper with his parent's details. He wonders if they still live there, if he went would they talk to him, would they be overjoyed at the return of their son, or would they not care.

"You weren't really... Close to your parents. And they’re in Brazil" Phil sits down by Neymar, only to stand up again quickly. He seems uncomfortable, and Neymar isn't sure why.

"How'd you mean?" Neymar looks up at him, watching the doctor pacing the room.

"You didn't talk to them. You'd not spoken to them since you came to Barcelona for collage." Phil looks pained, and Neymar has the horrible feeling the next question will have Phil trying to back out of answering it.

"Oh... Why?" The look that crosses Phil's face at the question leaves Neymar in no doubt that no answers will be forthcoming today.

"Neymar... I... Isn't this a lot for one day? I know you have a thousand questions, but slowly, okay? I don't want to overwhelm you." Phil perches on the arm of the couch, a soft smile on his lips.

"Yeah, I guess..." Neymar smiles slightly, folding the birth certificate up, and slipping it into his pants pocket. He's gotten a lot out of today. He's found out he rented the apartment he's sitting in, he's seen the faces of so many people he doesn't remember but was apparently friends with, he learnt his parents' names. The hows and whys of what happened with all of these people can wait; he's got plenty of time for finding out more. There's nothing much from what he's learned today to tell Leo, but he can finally tell Leo just how much of a toy boy he is. He doesn't think much of anything else he's learned will be of interest to Leo at all. He can't see Leo being interested in people Neymar doesn't remember, people that didn't care about him enough to be there for him in the hospital, or to look for him once he left.

"Next week... My day off is different." Phil stands again, and gestures to Neymar to follow him. "This is my schedule." He points to a calendar on the wall of the kitchen. Neymar fishes the little scrap of paper he'd taken from his coat pocket out, and scribbles down the dates. Next week the doctor has two days in a row off, and Neymar isn't too sure which would be the best to come visiting on.

"Which day will I come annoy you on?" Neymar doesn't look over at Phil, but he can tell the moment the doctor comes closer, he can feel a spark in the pit of his stomach, and wills it away.

"Both." Phil sounds so firm about that, and Neymar closes his eyes, ignoring the shiver that ran through him. "Or either, whichever you like." Phil's voice is clearly forced into being lighter, and he steps away from Neymar. "You want something to-"

"Why are you doing this?" Neymar turns to look at Phil, and watches a look of confusion cross his face. "I don't have anything to give you... All I have is what you see... Is that it? Do you like what you see, Dr. Couti?" Neymar lets a sultry smile spread over his lips, and the doctor's tongue flicks out to wet his own. "You do, huh?" Neymar swallows down the disappointment he can feel building in him, and steps closer to Phil. He'd hoped that the doctor would want something else, but if it's sex he wants, Neymar can provide that easily enough.

"Stop." His hands rest on Neymar's shoulders, keeping a good distance away. "Just stop. I'm doing this because you were... You meant something to me, Ney. You meant so very much to me, and I... I can't let you down again. I already did once, and I won't make that mistake twice." Phil looks earnestly at Neymar, and Neymar glances away from him, not sure what to say in response to that. "I don't want anything from you, Ney. I never have." Phil pulls Neymar into a tight hug, his hand running up Neymar's back to cup his head. It's by far the most intimate moment Neymar's ever had with anyone who isn't Leo, and surprisingly he finds himself returning the embrace easily, finds himself almost snuggling against the doctor. "I just want you safe. I want you happy."

"Everyone wants something." Neymar murmurs, and the doctor tenses, letting Neymar go. He moves away from him to stand on the other side of the kitchen, the island between them.

"I don't want anything from you." Phil says calmly, and surprising himself once more, Neymar believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really looking forward to see what you think.


	12. Leo

The world of scurriers is one defined by being alone. Even when in a crowd of others scurriers are alone. They insulate themselves against each other for reasons Leo can't work out. It's as though the scurriers are more comfortable in their isolation. Alone is something Neymar is terrified of, but alone is something Leo has often found comfort in. Alone is for some a refuge, for others it's a curse. There are some scurriers who thrive in their solitude, then there are others who need to feel like they're getting enough attention. Leo's sure Neymar falls into neither of those categories, he's also sure he doesn't either, but he and Neymar aren't really scurriers, not yet at least.

He's not sure where on the sliding scale of scurriers his new bosses fit. Sergio seems to crave attention the way a flower craves sunlight. The entirety of Leo's first night in the club, Sergio flitted around like a butterfly, mingling with the customers, guests he'd called them, flirting, and making sure that everyone had a good time. Cristiano seems more solitary. He'd stayed near the bar; nursing a beer that he had Leo replace every time he finished it. He'd not said much of anything, but he'd stared. It had been the heavy gaze of a predatory, and Leo had felt fidgety under it all night. He's pretty sure that nothing will come of it, but he'd not felt entirely comfortable with Cristiano's staring.

The second time he woke up after the first night of work was the first time in years Leo had woken up alone. It'd been strange not waking up with Neymar beside him, or at least nearby. It'd been strange, but the little note somehow made up for that. It's a simple little scrawl, Neymar's careful letters forming the words with odd precision.

I'll not be long, but if I'm not back before you have to go to work - I love you, and have a good night.

As he leaves for work, Leo tucks the little note into his pocket. It strangely feels like a little piece of Neymar pressed against him, a little reminder of why he's in the world of the scurriers, a little tangible piece of evidence that Neymar is worth scurrying for; Neymar is worth enduring anything for.

 

"Leo? You're early... Really early." Sergio's leaning against the bar when Leo wanders into the club. He looks surprised to see Leo, but Leo knows why. It's not even three in the afternoon, Leo's shift starts at seven, so he's very early.

"I wanted to... Is there anything I can do to help?" Leo wants them to be impressed with him, it's the sole reason he's there so early. He wants them to see him as keen, and dedicated to the club. He wants there to be no doubts about how much he needs this job. It's risky, but he thinks that both Sergio and Cristiano are good enough people to understand without him explaining; at least he hopes they are.

"You clean toilets?" Cristiano appears from the door leading to the back room. "We'll pay a cleaners wage along with the bartender's one." He gestures over to the cleaning supplies beside Sergio.

"I can do that." Leo pulls his coat off, sets it on the bar, and starts shoving the sleeves of his second hand sweater up. Cleaning, bar tendering, anything to make a little extra money, anything to keep Neymar safe.

"Good man." Cristiano grins at him, and comes closer, taking Leo's coat. "We're gonna need your bank details so we can pay you." He leans a little still to Leo, and Leo finds himself utterly uncertain what to say or do.

"I don't... I mean-"

"He lives in a motel, every job on his resume has clearly been cash in hand, Cris... Leo, here is clearly... In vulnerable housing." Sergio makes finger quotes around the last phrase, and Leo winces. "Sorry." Sergio smiles awkwardly, and pats Leo's shoulder. "We'll pay you cash in hand nightly or weekly? At least till you get yourself a bank account." A grin overtakes Sergio's face, and Leo feels instantly grateful to him.

"Weekly works best, I think." Cristiano smiles, and vanishes into the office with Leo's coat. He comes out with a box of doughnuts, and a coffee pot. "You eat yet?" He turns to Leo, a smile on his face, and Leo shakes his head. This whole situation feels awkward, but at the same time comfortable. It's strange, but Leo feels comfortable around these two, at least when Cristiano's not staring at him.

"Thank you." Leo mutters as he accepts a cup of coffee from Cristiano. There's a snort of dismissive amusement from Sergio as he tears into his first doughnut, and Cristiano glances at him, a tight look on his face.

"Leo... You're clearly going to be a valuable asset to us, you're keen, you're sharp-"

"You can pour drinks, you're hot, and the guests were raving about your ass all night." Sergio cuts in on what Cristiano was saying. Cristiano glares at Sergio, clearly unimpressed with his interruption. "What? It's true! That ass was getting rave reviews all night." 

"That isn't what we do here." Cristiano snaps and Leo laughs nervously. He's pretty sure that his new bosses don't need to know that he's sold his ass more times than he's had hot meals, he doesn't think that'd go over too well.

"If it was, we'd make a killing on that booty." Sergio spanks Leo's ass, and laughs. "You like the pun? I thought it up myself."

"No touching the merchandise." Leo mutters, winking at Sergio, and carefully not looking at Cristiano, because he can feel the weight and heat of his gaze without looking to confirm it.

"Exactly, Sergio, no touching the merchandise." Cristiano sounds like he's smirking, but Leo's still focused on his coffee cup, he's in no hurry to check for smirks.

"So... Leo's on toilet duty, you're restocking the bar... What'll I do?" Sergio says eventually, and Cristiano scoffs and cuffs the back of his head.

"This lazy asshole'll do nothing if you let him." Cristiano intones solemnly to Leo as he pats Sergio's head gently. "You can take the money to the bank, and don't even think of fobbing it off on someone else." Sergio sighs dramatically, and leaves the bar, muttering under his breath.

"Are you two dating?" The question is foolishly blurted out before Leo really finishes the thought. He thinks they might be, but they might just be really close friends.

"Me and Sergio?" Cristiano laughs, creeping a little closer. "No... Sergio and I are friends, nothing more, nothing less." There's a smile on Cristiano's face that makes him look less threateningly leering, a smile that makes him look charming and friendly, a smile that has Leo nodding, and backing away to start cleaning the bathroom. "Are you single?" The smile doesn't waiver, and Leo freezes. His mind, and his hand, going to the note in his jeans pocket.

"No." He whispers, his fingers curling around the note. "No. I've got someone." Leo smiles, and a strange glint fills Cristiano's eyes.

"Someone? Man? Woman? Both?" He chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Man, he's a man... We've been together for a while." Leo can feel his smile growing as he thinks of the time he's spent with Neymar. Their relationship hasn't always been perfect, they've had more than one fistfight, but they always make up, they always return to each other. "He's... I can't explain it." Leo shakes his head, and Cristiano nods slightly.

"I'm sure he's wonderful." He smirks, and Leo glances away. Neymar is wonderful, though the tone Cristiano used suggests he thinks that might not be the truth, and that idea doesn't sit well with Leo.

"I should get on with cleaning." He mumbles, leaving Cristiano alone.

The next few days fall into the same pattern. Leo comes home a little tipsy, showers, curls up in bed with Neymar, then goes to work, cleans the toilets, chats with Sergio and Cristiano, works his bartending shift, drinks a few beers, then goes home. It's a nice little routine, but he can't help but think that it's not good for Neymar. As time goes by Neymar seems more and more quiet. He's always a sleep when Leo arrives home, he's often not there when Leo wakes up, and Leo has no idea where he could be. There aren't any notes giving details of his location, and Leo doubts that the doctor has time to meet with Neymar on a daily basis.

The doctor is a mystery in and of himself. The day after Neymar had met with him for the second time, Leo hadn't really gotten anything out of Neymar, instead all Neymar had said was that they had talked, but nothing very interesting had come up. Leo hadn't believed him. It was strange not believing Neymar, but there was no way Leo could believe that Neymar hadn't learned anything even a little interesting about himself. The other thing that had stood out about that day as Neymar had a new outfit, complete with a long, thick wool coat. There's a part of Leo that's oddly offended by another man buying things for Neymar. It's a strange, possessive part of him that wants to wrap Neymar up, and hide him away from the rest of the world. Neymar is Leo's. Neymar is Leo's to protect, his to provide for, his to clothe, and some other man shouldn't be buying things for what is Leo's. Only Neymar is his own person, and the doctor was someone important to whom Neymar was, so it's nice that Neymar is getting that back somewhat.

Still Leo would like to know where Neymar is spending his time. Leo's time is spent at work, and if Neymar were there more often Leo would tell him about it on the few hours he's in the motel room and awake. Instead, once more Leo woken up alone, and simply gone to work. After tonight, he has tomorrow off. He's no idea what Neymar's planning on doing, but Leo intends to do it with him. He misses Neymar, which is ridiculous because they live together, but he misses the closeness they had on the streets. It's stupid to miss being part of the homeless, but there he and Neymar had been alone together. The world had been against them, and they'd had to struggle to survive, but it had been together. On the streets, almost all of Leo's time was spent with Neymar, and he misses that closeness.

"You alright there?" Cristiano's voice jolts Leo from his thoughts. Leo glances up from the toilet he's scrubbing and smiles awkwardly.

"Huh?" It's not the most intelligent answer, but Leo's not feeling too sharp at the moment. His mind is caught up with trying to work out where Neymar is, and what he's been doing with his time.

"I was asking if you were okay, and clearly the answer there is no..." Cristiano leans against the wall, and Leo shakes his head, returning to scrubbing.

"I'm good." Leo mutters, focusing on his work.

"C'mon, what's wrong?" Cristiano's tone is light and friendly, the sort of tone that requests that Leo trust him, but can't quite bring himself to, as he doesn't quite trust this man.

"It's nothing." Leo glances up, and offers a slight smile to Cristiano. "I'm good, just looking forward to getting a day off tomorrow." He smiles, and Cristiano laughs loudly.

"We working you too hard?" He's smirking at Leo, his eyes crinkled in mirth, and an icy finger of dread works down Leo's back.

"No! Not at all. I'm just looking forward to spending a day with... With my boyfriend." 

"So... What does your mysterious boyfriend do?" Cristiano seems like he's decided that he's going to try to pump Leo for information, and a part of Leo is resentful of this fact. He'd much rather be left to work in peace, but he needs to keep on his bosses' good side, and whilst with Sergio that's mostly achieved by nodding sagely at his rants, with Cristiano how to stay in his good books is a slight conundrum.

"He was... Sick. He's still getting better." Leo gives up on scrubbing the toilet, and stands. "He had some infection on his back... It was..." Leo sighs heavily, and glances away. "I could have lost him."

"I'm sorry, man." Cristiano pats Leo's shoulder lightly. "So you need this job for him?"

"Yeah." Leo chances a quick glance at Cristiano, and fidgets under his stare. "This... It's all for him."

"You really love him, huh?" A thoughtful look flits over Cristiano's face, and Leo shifts uncomfortably. "Hmm, well that's good to know. So, what's the plan for the first paycheck?" Leo shrugs slightly. He thinks that after the rent, he should use the rest of the money to set up a bank account, but there's a part of him that wants to lavish Neymar with gifts, something that Leo's bought him, something not from the doctor.

"Rent, I guess." Leo mumbles, fussing with the handle of the toilet brush in his hand.

"You'll treat your boy to something nice?" Cristiano smiles, his hand resting on Leo's shoulder once more. "He's lucky to have someone who looks after him so well." Cristiano squeezes Leo's shoulder lightly, and looks like he's going to leave finally. "I'll let you get back to work... You should take your boy over some time. I'd like to meet him." Leo knows without a shadow of a doubt he's never taking Neymar to this nightclub. It's not the sort of place Neymar would like in the least, and he's not entirely certain he'd like Cristiano or Sergio to meet him. Not because Leo's embarrassed of Neymar, rather the opposite, to Leo, Neymar is precious, and should be treasured. He's not the sort of thing to be shown off to all and sundry, Neymar is someone to be kept safe and away from those who might mean him harm. Not that there's any reason to suspect Cristiano or Sergio of meaning Neymar harm, it's just Leo would rather be safe than sorry when it comes to Neymar.

That night, just before his shift Leo chances a call to the motel room. There's a part of him that's desperate to hear Neymar's voice, a part that's not been indulged in what feels like weeks, but the call isn't answered, and Leo worries. The entirety of his shift he worries, sure he flirts, and he teases, and he serves more drinks than anyone else, but in the back of his mind, he worries. It feels like Neymar's drifting away from him, and he's no idea how to haul Neymar back to his side, back to where Neymar belongs.

"One envelope, all pristine and beautiful." After the shift ends, Sergio taps Leo's shoulder with a thick white envelope. It feels crass to open it, and check the money inside, so Leo manages to resist the urge. "I'm gonna need you to get a bank account sooner rather than later to make this all above board." Sergio smiles awkwardly, and Leo nods, tucking the envelope into a pocket.

"I will do." Leo mutters, pulling his coat on, and winding his scarf around his neck.

"So... You've two days off... Cris was wondering if you and the other half wanted to grab lunch sometime. I mean I'll totally get it if you wanna spend your time together, but I think Cris wants to check out the compet-"

"It's an offer only if you want to let us meet your boyfriend." Cristiano smoothly interrupts, and Leo has no idea how to react. He's sure that Sergio was going to say check out the competition, and he doesn't want to think on that too long. Cristiano's handsome in all the ways Neymar isn't. Where Neymar's scruffy, skinny, and a little dangerous looking, Cristiano is tall, refined, and elegant. Neymar is fragile, delicate even, Cristiano is clearly solid. They're day and night to each other, and Leo's pretty sure he knows which he prefers when with all of Cristiano's staring.

"I'll ask him, but I was looking forward to spending some time with just him... Working is incredible, but there's a part of me that misses being with him all the time." Leo smiles slightly, and pulls his gloves on. It's a fairly long walk back to the motel, and it's bitterly cold out, he needs as much protection as possible.

"Well, if his ass is as good as yours' we could hire him." Sergio laughs, and Cristiano elbows him in the ribs lightly.

"Don't listen to him, Leo. Have a few days off with your other half. We'll see you on Wednesday." Cristiano ushers Sergio out of the room, and then pauses at the doorway. "You know, Leo, if you want some extra... Nah, forget it. We'll see you Wednesday." Leo almost calls Cristiano back, but he doesn't. There'd been a gleam in Cristiano's eye as he'd said that, a gleam that sent shivers down Leo's spine, shivers he's not sure he liked.

The motel room is quiet and dark when Leo arrives back. It was exactly a week ago that he first came back from working at the bar. He's got his first day off tomorrow, and his first paycheck, or more accurately his first envelope of cash in his pocket. His plan is to pay the rent on the room for a few weeks, and maybe take Cristiano's suggestion to use the rest to buy Neymar something nice. There's a large part of Leo that's still annoyed that the first scurrier clothes Neymar owns came from the doctor, but he will admit that the jeans accentuate Neymar's thighs well, and the long wool coat shows off his waist beautifully. Still Leo had made promises of keeping Neymar safe, of keeping him warm, and for the doctor to be providing even a little for Neymar is galling.

"Ney?" Leo calls into the room, but there's no answer. He supposes Neymar must be asleep as he always is when Leo gets back, so he heads to the shower as quietly as possible.

When he slinks into bed he expects Neymar to be curled up under the covers, but there's nothing there, no warm body already asleep. The bed's empty. Leo flicks the light on, and stares around the room looking for some sign that Neymar's still there. The wool coat is draped over the chair, and for a second Leo's reassured, but all of the clothes Neymar had worn on the streets are gone. Leo's out of bed, and dressed before he's really processed what he's doing. He sits on the end of the bed to put his shoes back on, his mind trying to work out where the hell Neymar could have gone, and he stops.

"Ney?" Curled under the desk, huddled up like he was back out sleeping on the streets is Neymar, and Leo can't work out why. "Baby, what you doing under here?" Leo keeps his voice soft and low as it seems like Neymar's fast asleep. For a few seconds Leo isn't sure what to do. He simply sits, and stares at the huddled, sleeping figure. Neymar looks tense. He looks miserably like his dreams are anything but sweet, and Leo wants to comfort him, but he's not sure how to go about that. There has to be a reason Neymar chose to sleep like this. It looks like he'd been planning on leaving, but at the last minute changed his mind, and curled up under the desk instead. Tentatively, Leo reaches out and shakes Neymar's shoulder. He jolts awake, his eyes huge, and darting around the room before settling on Leo. "Whatcha doing?" Leo smiles at Neymar, getting a quick shake of his head in response. "Neymar..."

"Don't ask." Neymar mutters, pressing his face against his knees. "Just... Sleep with me."

"Here?" Leo considers what to do, he's tired, he wants to sleep with Neymar, and there's a perfectly good bed sitting there waiting for them to sleep in, but Neymar seems to want to sleep where he is. "Move over." Leo clambers under the desk beside Neymar.

"You working again tomorrow?" Neymar mutters as he melts against Leo's side, his body warm from all the layers he's wearing.

"Ney, what were you doing?" Leo needs an answer, otherwise it'll play on his mind all night. He knows being alone is terrifying for Neymar, but Leo will always come back to him. There's no need to be afraid.

"Leo." Neymar stresses his name, and Leo sighs. There won't be any answers tonight, he knows that, so he presses a kiss to Neymar's shaved hair, and squeezes him tightly.

"I'm not working tomorrow. Got me a day off and a big wedge of cash in my pocket. I'm gonna treat you to something nice." Leo tilts Neymar's face up, stroking over his eyebrow.

"Treat me to a day with you." Neymar mumbles and he clears his throat. "I don't need anything but you, you know that right? This room, the bed, the running water... The information I get from Couti...Phil, I don't need it. All I need is you beside me." Neymar nuzzles against Leo.

"I'm right here." Leo murmurs, his hand running down the length of Neymar's back. "I ain't going anywhere, Neymar... I'm right here, right beside you. I won't let you be alone." Neymar doesn't answer, he does nothing more than snuggle closer, seemingly content with Leo's words.

 

"I'm sorry I made you sleep here last night." Neymar's soft voice wakes Leo up in the morning. He sounds miserable, and Leo kisses his head lightly.

"You wanna tell me why we're sleeping under here?" Leo squeezes Neymar, and indulges a grin when Neymar cuddles up to him some more.

"I... I've been working." Neymar mutters, and Leo frowns, tilting Neymar's face up to him.

"Working?" He parrots back, and Neymar nods, turning his face away.

"I don't want to be a burden to you... I... The money's with all the rest in the lock drawer. I... I shouldn't be in here, Leo." Neymar sighs softly, his face turning down to the ground.

"What?" Leo forces Neymar to face him once more.

"I don't belong in this room. I don't belong with you... You're making a go of a real life, and all I am is me... All I am is a man who sells himself to survive, a man who's only ever really known the streets-"

"You belong here. You belong with me. You're mine, Neymar. Mine." Leo grips Neymar's chin tightly, trying to impress just how much Neymar belongs with Leo. "You don't have to do that anymore-"

"What else can I do? I don't have any skills, I don't know anything,I was a person once, but now I'm a fucking mess of forgotten everything." Neymar slips from Leo's grasp, and stands. He looks furious, and Leo's a little worried this might escalate into a fight. He doesn't want to fight Neymar, not on his day off, not ever really. Leo struggles out from under the desk, and holds his hands up placatingly.

"You're learning about yourself... You can't expect to remember everything-"

"I remember nothing!" Neymar snarls and he aims a half-hearted kick at the desk. "Phil can tell me all the shit he likes, but I'm not gonna magically remember any of it. I have to write shit fucking down... Nothing stays, Leo. Nothing! Do you have any idea how fucking frustrating it is to be told things about myself, and to not be able to remember them for more than five minutes if I'm lucky? Do have any idea how hard it is for me to talk to him? To kind of, sort of, but not really remember things about him? To be around this guy who was important to me, and to have absolutely no fucking idea why he left me? Why anyone, everyone left me?" Neymar's shaking, and Leo approaches him cautiously. "Don't! Don't fucking touch me! You're going too, you know that? Everyone leaves me, and I... I'm gonna make this easier for myself." Neymar turns on his heel, and leaves the motel room.

"Neymar! You fucking stop right there!" Leo snarls, and surprisingly Neymar stops in his tracks. "I ain't gonna leave you. I'm right fucking here, and I'm always gonna be right fucking here." Leo thumps his chest with each word, his eyes narrowed, his blood pumping loudly in his ears. "I ain't going anywhere. You wanna leave. I'll be right here waiting for you. I'm tired, I'm sore, and I fucking miss you more than I can say, so get back in here, take off those clothes, and come to bed." Out of the corner of his eye, Leo can see the door of the next room over twitching slightly, the occupant opening it a little to hear the argument better.

"Leo..." Neymar almost whines, and Leo almost goes to him, but this isn't the best way to handle this situation. In this instance, Neymar needs to come to Leo, and Leo knows that.

"Come inside, come to bed, come tell me about your notes... Come lemme hold you... Lemme touch you, baby... It's been so long." Leo mutters, and Neymar's shoulder sag, the tension in his posture seeping from him.

"I miss you." Neymar mumbles finally, his shoulders drooped. He looks defeated, and Leo feels terrible for having caused him to look this way.

"I'm right here, baby. I'm always right here." Leo reaches out to Neymar, willing him to turn around, and feeling an overwhelming flood of relief when he does.

"I'm sorry... I'm just... I don't like being alone." Neymar comes to him, and Leo engulfs him in a tight hug, smothering Neymar in his embrace.

"You're not alone, Neymar, you have me. Even when I'm not with you, I'm still there. You're never alone." Leo means those words more than he can express, he means them more than he's ever meant anything, because Neymar is terrified of being alone, and if there's one thing Leo won't allow to happen, it's Neymar being afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart ached through reading this again.


	13. The Real Neymar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neymar learns more about himself.

The motel room is always quiet. Quiet would be fine if Neymar wasn't alone, but he is, and the silence of the room becomes oppressive after a few hours, so he leaves. Phil still has Neymar's clothes from the streets, and whilst Leo's thin, the clothes he's bought are generally too long for Neymar to fit properly. The shirts are okay, but the pants trail on the ground slightly, so Neymar has little option but to stick with the jeans Phil gave him.

The last visit to see the doctor, Neymar left with far too many new things for him to feel entirely comfortable with, but the discomfort of the new clothing hadn't outweighed the discomfort Neymar felt after stealing the photo of him and Phil. He can't say why he took it other than he wanted to. He wanted something tangible of his past, something beyond the tenancy agreement for the apartment he rented, something beyond his birth certificate, that he still hasn't shown Leo. He wanted something that he could stare at to try to understand the men in the photo. Phil seems pretty straightforward, but Neymar’s a riddle. Understanding himself is like trying to catch clouds. He's too distant, and there's a part of Neymar that's convinced that even if he were close enough he'd never be able to grasp who he was anyway. Who he was, Neymar's beginning to think, will always be a mystery.

He can't really say why he started working in the evenings whilst Leo's at the nightclub, well he can but he doesn't want think about the why too closely. He knows he's out there letting other men fuck him for money for the simple reason of its easy work that pays. He and Leo need money to keep the motel, and Neymar has no skills, no trade, and no real practical experience in anything other than selling his body. He's never done anything other than that, and while it's sad and depressing, it's a fact. Neymar's good at selling himself, and with the nicer clothes the clients seem more inclined to give him more money than usual, which brings him an odd sense of pride. His contribution to the ever-dwindling roll of money is meager, but it's something. It's not something to be happy about, it's something to be deeply ashamed of, but Neymar's making money, and he's helping keep them afloat in what is the only way he can. Still he doesn't want Leo to know. As much as he doesn't want Leo to know, he doesn't want Phil to know more, the idea of the doctor knowing Neymar works as a prostitute makes him feel slightly sick.

Phil was his friend, and there's vast part of Neymar that wants the doctor as his friend too. He doesn't have friends, he has acquaintances and Leo. Leo's more than enough, but Neymar feels greedy when it comes to the idea of being Phil's friend, he wants it more than he can really explain, for reasons he definitely can't explain, but the longer he stares at the photo, the more he wants it. He wants to be able to smile the way he is in that picture. He wants the carefree happiness in Neymar eyes to be in his own. It might be an impossible to fulfill desire, but it doesn't stop Neymar from wanting it.

Money isn't the real reason Neymar's whoring himself out, deep down he knows that. The real reason is more depressingly honest than that. He's whoring himself out, because it's something he can control. He decides who fucks him, the how and the where, it's all Neymar's decision. Everything in his life is out of his hands. Leo's working, he's away from Neymar, and there's nothing to be down about it. Phil holds all of the cards, every drop of information comes only one way, there's nothing equal in that relationship. Whoring gives Neymar control. Then there's the fact that it stops him from being alone. It's a pathetic reason to turn to prostitution, but it's an honest one. Neymar hates being alone, hates feeling lonely, because it reminds him of the hospital. On the streets, before Leo, he'd been alone by choice. If he let no one close, there would be no one to betray and abandon him. He'd been alone to spare himself the pain of being left behind again, but Leo had wormed his way in. There'd been no keeping Leo out once he'd decided to be part of Neymar's life, and no matter how hard Neymar had tried to keep Leo out, he'd not stayed away, so Neymar had relented and let Leo in. On the streets, it'd been okay, not good by any means, but it was okay. Then Neymar had gotten sick, and he'd been sure that death was waiting for him, but Leo had saved him. In saving Neymar, Leo had given him Phil, who seems just as likely as Leo to become someone that Neymar lets in. Both Phil and Leo have so much scope to destroy Neymar, and the idea of it terrifies Neymar. They could ruin him, and he'd have no defense against it.

"Love you." Leo's voice in his ear, and Leo's arms worming under him wake Neymar up. He'd not been sleeping deeply. Tomorrow he gets to call Phil, and arrange another meeting, maybe even two meetings if Phil wants to deal with Neymar on both of his days off. The excitement, and it is childish excitement, kept Neymar from sleeping well.

"Hmm... Love you too." Neymar twists in Leo's arms and smiles at the slightly drunk, and highly confused face Leo pulls.

"You're awake?" Leo mutters, one hand moving Neymar's waist to stroke over his face. "I can't even remember the last time you've been awake. Fuck, you're beautiful, you know that? The most beautiful thing I've ever seen... No one compares to you... No one, not even Crist-"

"You're not comparing me to Jesus now?" Neymar laughs, and Leo grins at him sleepily.

"You're more beautiful than Aphrodite herself... Wait that's uh... Too tired for complicated thinking." Leo buries his face against Neymar's neck, and Neymar's eyes fall closed at the feeling of being nuzzled. The major thing he can't get from whoring himself out is this. Neymar adores being cuddled, he loves being nuzzled against, and snuggled up with. The only person he's ever let close enough for that is Leo, and Leo's been too busy to cuddle Neymar as of late.

"Get some sleep." Neymar mutters softly, stroking Leo's back and hair. "I'll be out tomorrow... Gonna go see the doctor."

"It helping?" Leo mumbles, his voice slurred with on-coming sleep and residual alcohol.

"I don't know." Neymar answers honestly. He's no idea if his meetings with Phil are helping. He thinks that in some ways, it's good to spend time learning about who he was, but in other ways, the time Neymar spends with the doctor is bad for both him, and Phil. He's certain that Phil can't be getting anything worthwhile out of being around Neymar, unless it's for medical research, but if Neymar was just a research subject there wouldn't be the pain that occasionally blossoms in Phil's eyes when Neymar does something that reminds him of who he was. It might be that spending time together is terrible for both Neymar and Phil, but there's a part of Neymar that hopes the opposite is true, because he doesn't want to give up spending time with the doctor.

 

"Phil, tell me what happened between us." Neymar mutters softly. He's leafing through another stack of photos from his, his past, trying to remember anything of the people in them. The faces mean nothing; even his own face is strange to him. He doesn't recognize himself without the scar. He was a different man, and it's hard to reconcile the past with the present for Neymar. All the time he's had on his own with Leo working has given him far too much time to think about his past, and of all the things that he's dwelling on the falling out with Phil plays on his mind the most.

"I... It's..." There's a soft sigh beside him, and Neymar glances over at Phil. He looks tired, ridiculously so, but it's his day off so that's understandable. Doctoring is hard work, and it's basically what he's doing on the days he should be free, sitting with Neymar is essentially doctoring, in a different way to normal, but Neymar's sure it should be covered under the Hippocratic oath.

"I meant something to you?" Neymar watches something flit over Phil's face, something uncomfortable, something that he clearly doesn't want Neymar to notice.

"I told you that." His voice is rough, an edge to it Neymar's never heard from him. "I meant something to you too..." He closes his eyes, and scrubs a hand over his face. "You still mean something to me."

"What happened then? What happened to us?" Neymar pulls the picture he stole a last visit out of his pocket, and sets it on the table. The photograph shows him and Phil, big, happy grins turned to the camera. It's a photograph Neymar's spent the last week staring at, trying to remember that moment in time. "We were happy... Why didn't we talk after we graduated College? Where were you? Why I was alone? What happened?"

"I left." Phil says simply, his head flopping back on the back of the couch so he can regard the ceiling. "You told me you had feelings for me. I freaked out and left." Neymar stares at Phil's profile, trying to remember the emotions that must have been coursing through him then, but as ever, there's nothing. The pain that he must have felt is gone, and Neymar almost wonders if an escape from pain was the reason behind the accident.

"You left me?" Neymar's tone is flat, but there's nothing he can do to change that. He doesn't really feel anything at the revelation of Phil leaving him. It merely confirms to Neymar that he wasn't a good person. No one looked for him, no one stayed with him, everyone left him. Neymar's life is the result of his own past failures.

"I didn't leave you... I..." Phil sighs, and closes his eyes. "I ran away... I wasn't right for you. In all honesty I've no idea who would have been." He laughs, and Neymar stares down at the most recent photo of himself. Dyed mohawk hair, too many earrings, bored apathy in his eyes contrasts the boldness of his appearance, a sardonic twist to his lips. He wasn't an unattractive man, not like him at least. Years on the streets leave Neymar looking intimidating; Neymar in the picture had at least looked like he's listen before punching you in the face.

"Neymar was a bad person." Neymar says firmly, as he takes the photo up again, and regards it carefully. Once he was happy, once he was happy with Phil, but Phil left, and he was alone. By all accounts, he was always alone, and he must have deserved that, he must have been a bad person. Beside him, Phil laughs quietly.

"No... He wasn't a bad person, Ney... He was..." He tilts his head so that whilst it's still flopped against the back of the couch he's facing Neymar. "He was a good man, just... I don't have the words for it. He was like you... But a little different..." Phil sighs once more, and Neymar twists so that he's sitting sideways on the couch, staring at Phil.

"Like me?" Neymar toes his shoes off, and tucks his legs up under him. "You don't know me, Phil." Neymar rests his elbow on the back of the couch, a lazy smirk forming on his lips. "You can't say anything about anyone being like me."

"I know you." A small smile spreads over Phil's lips, and Neymar can feel something stir in his gut, some strange urge to let his smirk soften into a sweeter smile. "I know you better than either of us realize." Phil shakes his head, and sits up straighter, picking up the stack of photos once more. "This one... This girl here." He taps the photo, and Neymar leans a little closer so he can see the picture. "That's your sister... It's the only picture of her I've ever seen, and I'm not entirely sure who the other people are." The photo shows a much younger Neymar standing beside a slightly younger girl, his arm around Neymar’s shoulders. There's several other people in the picture, all grinning, all obviously friends.

"Sister?" There's an odd little part of Neymar that wants to cuddle up closer to Phil, but he's sure that's solely because Leo's been away pretty much all week. He's sure that if Leo were around more Neymar wouldn't be spending so much of his time feeling lonely. If Leo wasn't always working, Neymar would be able to curl up by him, and he wouldn't be facing urges to snuggle with the only other person he spends any time with. What Neymar needs is to learn to not expect to be coddled to so much, Leo's working so they both have somewhere to live, Leo's working for their futures, and Neymar should be grateful for that.

"Sister." Phil repeats softly, and passes the photo over. "Her name's Rafaella, and before you ask, I never met her." Phil shakes his head, and laughs. "You was a compartmentalized person. You've always kept so many things locked up inside that pretty little head of yours... It's probably ironic that they're locked up away from you too now." Phil laughs, and Neymar can feel his cheeks heating up as Phil flicks his forehead lightly.

"Hmm... Probably." Neymar mutters, picking the photo of his sister up. "What the fuck was Neymar so afraid of? Was there anyone he didn't stop talking to?" Neymar shifts so that his back is pressed against Phil's side, and holds the photo of his sister up. The girl in the picture looks enough like Neymar to obviously be his sister, and he can't help but wonder what happened between them. He wonders if the other people in the picture where Neymar’s friends too, or if they were Rafaella’s. With every drip of information of his past, there comes a flood of questions, and it's becoming tiresome.

"Neymar was... Ney, do you want me to tell you what happened with you and your parents? You asked last week, and it's all kind of linked, or at least in the same vein." Phil says suddenly. He shifts away slightly, and Neymar has to catch himself so he doesn't flop backwards into Phil more.

"Do I?" Neymar mutters shifting closer to Phil again, pressing himself against him once more. He can't say why, but he has the feeling this story will be easier to hear with some human contact.

"I can't... I don't know. Do you?" Phil seems uncertain what to do with himself. He feels tense beneath Neymar. He thinks he should move away, but he doesn't want to break the contact, he needs someone close to him, he needs the reassurance another person's presence gives him. Neymar glances up at the ceiling, and nods. He wants to know the story of his and his parents. He wants to know as many stories as Phil can tell him, no matter how upsetting they are, Neymar needs to hear them, and even if they are upsetting, that hurt will be mitigated by the comfort offered by being pressed against Phil's side.

"Tell me." Neymar mumbles and Phil takes a deep breath. He fidgets a little, and then relaxes, settling more comfortably against the back of the couch, letting Neymar slump against him some more.

"The full story... Well, you were never big on full stories, so I can't really give you that." Phil laughs quietly, and Neymar snorts. He's still staring at the picture of his sister, still wondering about the other people in the picture with him. "But the way I heard it, there was an argument, something about money." Phil sighs, and Neymar shifts so he can see Phil's face. "Your father wasn't great with money. He was an alcoholic, spent most of what he had on beer. Your mother never worked, a stay-at-home mom. You wanted to go to college, they didn't have the money for it, so he... you were a volatile man." It sounds like Phil's being diplomatic with that description, in all honesty, it sounds like he was an ill-tempered asshole most of the time. "You never felt like they cared all that much about you, and really I don't think that they did. I don't think it was spite, or malice on their part, just that they were people who probably shouldn't have had kids. Your sister... Rafaella... You had a falling out, again over money. It always sounded like you and she were kind of similar... Too similar probably."

"Neymar was kind of fixated on money, huh? He fought with everyone over it?" Neymar asks easily, and Phil chuckles.

"He never had any money growing up... So he was always frugal. I was surprised when I saw this place to be honest. It's not the sort of place I could see you spending money on." Phil trails off, and he moves so that his back's braced against the arm of the couch. "Your parents never contacted you. You never contacted them, not once all through college. You didn't like to talk about them. You told me all this one night while we were studying for this big exam. You didn't hate them. Sure, you didn't care about them, but you didn't hate them. I don't think you ever really hated anyone... It was always like you just moved on. If you weren’t getting what you needed from someone, you’d find it elsewhere. No hate, no resentment, just accepting that these aren't the people you need, and going to find the people you do."

"Sounds like a good system." Neymar mutters, his back still turned to Phil.

"Pragmatic." Phil's hand rests on Neymar's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "You've always been a pragmatic man, Ney." Neymar closes his eyes, and wills the slight heat trickling through him away. That nickname, Phil's touch, it's too much for him, but at the same time not quite enough. "So... You want some tea?" Phil stands, and Neymar takes a deep breath in through his nose. He should leave. This conversation, the way he feels so comfortable around Phil, the touches between them, these aren't things he should be indulging. He should be at home, but the motel room will be empty, Leo'll be at work, and Neymar can't stand the idea of spending anymore time alone. He's so tired of being alone, being abandoned.

"Sounds good." Neymar scoops the stack of photos up, and trails along behind Phil, sparing a glance for the living room ceiling. He might have been pragmatic, but he was also a damned mystery, and even if Neymar's learnt more about himself, he's no closer to solving the mystery.

"You know." Phil sounds puzzled as he sips at his tea, and Neymar glances up from the cookie he was nibbling at to look at Phil. "I have absolutely no idea how you paid for college." There's a concerned look on Phil's face, a tightly worried expression that has Neymar returning it.

"I …I mean Neymar never told you?" he kept secrets it seems, far too many secrets, and Neymar's no idea how to fully unravel the enigma that was himself.

"No... And I never thought of it until now... How the fuck did you pay for college, Ney?" Phil's staring at Neymar, but in that moment Neymar has no doubts that it's not him Phil's seeing. The doctor is staring the past in the eye and trying to understand just what it was doing.

"Neymar was a mystery?" Neymar shrugs, and Phil scowls. "You were best friends, but he kept secrets, it happens." Neymar smiles slightly, and Phil's scowl deepens.

"Neymar... He... We... I can't explain it." Phil scrubs a hand over his face, and sighs.

"Did you fuck me?" Neymar asks harshly, and Phil barks a surprised laugh.

"No." His scowl is replaced with a broad smile, and Neymar narrows his eyes slightly.

"Did I fuck you?" The rephrased question has Phil laughing once more, and Neymar almost bristles on behalf of his former self.

"There was no fucking, Neymar. We never had sex." Phil takes a drink from his tea, and a frown slowly forms on his lips. He's clearly getting lost in trawling through his memories trying to find anything about how he paid for college. "Before you ask, the most that ever happened was a kiss." Phil says suddenly, cutting off the next few questions Neymar was formulating in his mind.

"You kissed me?" Neymar stares at Phil, at the blank look on his face, and feels like he's said something stupid once more, but what Neymar isn't sure.

"I didn’t kissed you I kissed the real Neymar." Phil says firmly, and Neymar shifts his gaze to his cup quickly. Phil kissed the real Neymar, not him. It's usually so easy to keep a hold of the difference between the two, but clearly at the thought of kissing Neymar had let that differentiation slide.

"Was the rel Neymar a good kisser?" Neymar's smile and tone feel like they're on the wrong side of flirtatious, and Phil shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "That good, huh?"

"Stop." Phil sounds like he's trying to sound firm, but really he just sounds pained, and a little upset. "This is..." He sighs heavily, and takes a drink from his cup. "Is anything I've told you sticking?"

"Not really... I... Little things, little scraps of information stick. I write it all down." There's a heavy pause, and Phil nods slightly.

"I wish I could fix you." He says eventually, and Neymar glances away. He almost wishes the doctor could fix him too, but if he was fixed, he wouldn't be himself anymore.

"I don't know if I do... I don't think I want to be the real Neymar again." Neymar mumbles, taking up his cup, and finishing the too hot liquid too quickly. He can feel it scalding its way down his throat.

"I... I don't think you could be him again, Neymar." An odd look flicks over Phil's face, something almost sad, and Neymar can't think of anything to say in response to that. He stands, and makes a move towards the front door. "You're leaving?"

"I think I've taken up enough of your time." Neymar forces a smile to his face, and Phil looks torn. Torn over what Neymar isn't sure, and he's not sure he should ask because Phil might tell him, and Neymar has the distinct feeling he wouldn't much like the answer.

"Wait here, I'll get your things. I fixed up the holes, and... Well they're as close to new as I could get them." Phil heads to the laundry room, and Neymar leans against the door frame, staring up at the ceiling. The real Neymar isn't just a mystery now, he was a mystery then too, and Neymar can't even begin to understand what he was so afraid of. There had to be something, something he didn't want other people to know, something dark, something ominous, something bad. he wasn't a good person; if he were, people wouldn't have left him so easily. Phil returns quickly, holding a bag of Neymar's things.

"Couti?" Neymar starts, and then the rest of the words he wanted die in his throat, and he can't remember how he wanted to proceed with that statement.

"Neymar... Can you not? Can you please not call me that?" Phil's voice is soft, so soft and small, but so heavy with pain.

"Call you what?" Neymar steps forward, he intended to take the bag, but what he does is pull Phil into a hug, his arms wrapping around Phil tightly.

"Couti... It's-"

"You call me Ney." Neymar mumbles, his eyes falling closed when Phil's arms wrap around him just as tight. "I meant something to you. You meant something to me... I mean something to you, and you mean something to me, but I don't know what."

"The past, Neymar... It's all the past." Phil's arms squeeze Neymar tightly, his scent filling Neymar's senses.

"I don't have a past. I don't have a future... All I have is now." Neymar thinks he should stop nuzzling against Phil so he pulls back slightly, pausing when he sees Phil's face. They're close, far too close, but that doesn't feel like a problem in that moment. Right then it feels perfectly normal to be pressed against Phil like this. "You loved him? You had feelings for him, so why did you run?"

"I... It wasn't the right time. He... He'd knocked me back so many times, and then I was leaving, and he said everything I needed to, wanted to hear, and I couldn't... I just couldn't, Ney. It wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to us... It was the wrong time, but fuck... There's so much I should have done differently, so much." Phil's hands come to rest on Neymar's cheeks, framing his face gently, and Neymar can feel his lungs aching as they try to get enough oxygen. Phil's deep brown eyes are boring into Neymar's, his attention rapt with Neymar's face. "I'm sorry, Ney... I'm so sorry... I'm sorry for..."

"What?" Neymar prompts, and whatever the moment was is lost. Phil clears his throat lightly, and tries to step away, but Neymar clings to him. "You left me once, Couti. Don't leave me again." Neymar's voice is a pitiful bleat of sound, a miserably plaintive whisper, and Phil relents. He pulls Neymar close once more, holding him tightly. They stand in silence for what feels like an incredibly long, but also incredibly short time, Neymar reveling in being held, as Phil slowly strokes the back of his head. As they stand there, Neymar wonders if this was how the real Neymar felt when Phil held him, if he felt this wrapped up and safe in Phil's arms. Neymar thinks, from the little he's learnt of his past, feeling this way would terrify him, but afraid is the one thing this doesn't make Neymar feel.

"Do you want a ride back to where you're staying?" Phil asks eventually, and Neymar almost doesn't answer. There's a part of him that's hoping if he's quiet Phil won't ask again, and he'll get to stay pressed against the doctor. Once he leaves the circle of Phil's arms, he'll have to go back to the motel room, and he knows that he'll end up pacing it for a while before going back out to turn some tricks again. He's not something Phil needs in his life, but Phil doesn't know that, and as long as he keeps a hold of Neymar, he won't know that, but then there's Leo. A chill runs down Neymar's spine, and he pulls away from Phil. He's standing embracing another man whilst his lover is probably getting ready to work. Neymar doesn't deserve this, and Leo certainly doesn't deserve to be lumbered with Neymar. "Ney?"

"I... I should go." Neymar can't meet Phil's eyes, can't bring himself to look at him. He'd wanted a friend out of Phil, and he's probably pushed too far, come on too strong, and too fast.

"Neymar?" Phil's hand tilts Neymar's chin up, forcing him to meet Phil's eyes. "Do you want me to take you home?" He slowly, firmly, trying to impress that this is more than an offer to take Neymar back to the motel. That simple question is also are you sure you want to keep talking to me, doesn't this hurt you too much? Neymar nods slightly, then clears his throat.

"Yeah. I'd love a ride back to my motel, Phil." It hurts, but Neymar needs this, and he'll keep visiting Phil until the doctor leaves him again.

The ride back to the motel is silent expect for Neymar giving occasional directions. There's some kind of unrealized energy hanging between him and the doctor, and Neymar has no idea how to break it. It doesn't feel tense, but it's not relaxed, and he'd like for it to be relaxed. There shouldn't be this strange unrealized potential between friends, and what Neymar wants is friendship.

"Why did we become friends?" He asks as they pull up outside the motel. Phil glances over at him, and chuckles softly.

"Why? that's a question." A grin forms on his lips, and Neymar can feel an unexpected heat creep up the back of his neck. "I guess because we were living together." Phil looks unsatisfied with his answer, and a frown slowly forms on his lips. "I wanted to be your friend... you was cool, and funny, and charming, and beau- you was an interesting guy." Phil finishes awkwardly, turning to stare out the windscreen, and Neymar can feel his cheeks burning. Beautiful. Phil had almost called him, the real Neymar, beautiful, and Neymar feels a little flustered at that.

"The real Neymar was interesting, but not me?" Neymar instantly regrets asking that, instantly regrets the teasing tone he'd asked it in.

"You're plenty interesting." Phil mutters, and turns back to Neymar. "You want a hand taking your stuff to your room?"

"Nah... I'll manage." The smile that rests on Neymar's lips feels surprisingly genuine, and he's grateful for that. It feels like the odd energy between them is dormant for now, and it's a relief.

"I've got tomorrow off too if you wanna... I mean... If you want-"

"I don't want to take up all your time. You'll get sick of me pretty quickly, Phil." Phil laughs at Neymar's words, his fingers twitching nervously on the steering wheel.

"Gimme a call, I'll treat you to lunch." The smile that spreads over Phil's lips draws one over Neymar's, and he nods.

"Alright, but whoever you're dating's gonna be pissed that you keep running off with some homeless guy." Neymar laughs and Phil shakes his head.

"I'm not seeing anyone." He mumbles, and Neymar laughs nervously. He'd meant it as a throwaway comment, but it's genuinely the first real piece of information he's gotten about Phil himself.

"You're not? Why? I mean you're a good-looking guy, you're ridiculously kind, and you've got an amazing apartment, a great job-"

"Which leaves me with no time to go looking for someone to date. My choices are either patients or staff, and experience has taught me to not shit where I eat." Phil cuts in, and Neymar feels like an idiot. He should have realized that being a doctor is too time consuming to have time for dating. "You sure you'll manage? You look sick." The back of Phil's hand presses against Neymar's forehead, gauging his temperature. "You should lie down... Have you been pushing yourself? You're still healing, Ney. You need to be careful with yourself."

"I-" Neymar cuts himself off, he'd felt the truth of what he's been doing with his nights on the tip of his tongue, and he's nowhere near ready to spill all of the secrets of his life out to Phil.

"Your boyfriend's looking after you... Stop. I know what you're doing, and I know it's for complicated reasons that are more than just money, but it's not helping, not even with that." Phil says softly, his hand twists, and a finger trails over Neymar's eyebrow gently. "You're only hurting yourself... It's a habit you've not forgotten, unfortunately." He sighs softly, and Neymar can feel his eyes drift closed under Phil's careful touches. As gently as Leo touches him sometimes, it's never quite with this much reverence, never quite like Neymar is made of smoke and too much pressure could destroy him. "You were always a masochist, always trying to keep everything hidden, and most of the time it worked, but you can never hide how much things are hurting you... You could never hide that from me." Phil's hand cups Neymar's cheek for a second before he withdraws it. "That's why I ran, that's why I left you, Ney... You were hurt, you were scared, and I knew that with my starting work I wouldn't have time to make it better. I had to choose, my career or you, and I chose my job." Neymar opens his eyes to look at the doctor, seeing the utter misery in his brown eyes. "I've never regretted anything more than leaving you that day... I've never been more scared in my life than when I got the call from the hospital that you'd left. They... They told me when you were admitted, when you woke up from your coma... I tried, I tried so hard to get time off to see you, but I was still so new, still too junior to be able to get enough time. In the end, I put in for a transfer, but by the time it cleared, you'd vanished. I looked, Ney... I looked so hard, but I couldn't find you-"

"I was scared, Couti... There was no one there, I didn't know anything, I couldn't remember, and I was alone... So scared." The fear from the hospital fills Neymar, his lungs don't seem capable of drawing enough air, his heart can't beat fast enough to get his blood where it needs to be, his eyes can't keep their tears back.

"I'm sorry." Phil whispers, and pulls Neymar into a hug that's awkward, and uncomfortable, but completely what Neymar needs in that moment. He can't remember the last time he's broken down like this, but it feels cathartic. Phil's hands move slowly over Neymar's back as he sobs, Phil's voice murmurs quiet reassurances into his ears, soft words that erode the fear and loneliness in Neymar like time erodes cliff faces. When the sobs die down, Neymar doesn't move. He's certain he couldn't move even if he wanted to, pressed against Phil he feels contentedly safe, and it's a sanctuary he doesn't want to leave, but Phil will need to go home. He has his own life to attend to, and Neymar has his empty motel room to keep vigil in.

Neymar leads Phil up to the room he shares with Leo, and feels even grubbier than usual. This is the place Leo's working so hard to keep for them, and Neymar's standing outside of it with another man, he feels some kind of warm tingle in the pit of his stomach over. It feels like he's betraying Leo in some way, some strange fundamental way that makes him feel awful.

"I'll call you, okay?" Neymar mutters, as he slides the key into the lock, holding his spare hand out for the bag of his clothes.

"I'll be waiting." There's a note in Phil's voice, a hint that if Neymar doesn't call Phil will come and find him. It's a tone that makes a spark of fire burn in Neymar's gut, and it makes him feel miserable because it makes him think of Leo. Neymar nods tightly, not turning to look at the doctor. He's embarrassed himself enough around Phil today, he doesn't need to do or say anything else stupid or needy. "Later." Phil mutters, setting the bag at Neymar's feet, and taking Neymar's outstretched hand. He squeezes it lightly, and turns to leave the hallway.

"I'll call tomorrow, Couti... I'll write it down so I remember." Neymar calls, getting a nod and a soft good for his comment.

The motel room is unsurprisingly empty; Leo's already left for work. The first thing Neymar does is scrawl everything he can remember about the afternoon down. Every word, every thought, every feeling that has clung to his mind, Neymar captures on paper, and when he's done he feels drained. Once he's written, Neymar throws himself to the bed, and he lies staring up at the ceiling, trying to understand the emotions burning in his gut. There's a twisted mess of tangled feelings in his brain that he can't grasp or understand, a mass of half-connected emotions that leave him unable to actually feel anything.

He can't say how long he lies there, but eventually Neymar moves. He strips the clothes Phil gave him last week off, and starts pulling on his own clothes. They smell nicer than when he first got them, they look in much better repair too, Phil did a good job with them, and Neymar feels bitingly guilty for some reason he can't pin down. Once he's dressed, Neymar feels more like himself. He feels like the outside matches the inside of him once more. Dressed in the nice clothes Phil gave him, Neymar felt like a fraud. He's not someone who can wear things like that, he's someone who is clearly from the streets, someone who's exterior should match the grimy interior. His eyes fall to the coat Leo had always worn on the streets, and something leaden settles in Neymar's stomach. He's holding Leo back. If it wasn't for Neymar, Leo would have worked his way out of this mess long ago, he's sure of it. If it wasn't for Neymar, Leo would never have been on the streets for so long. Now he's got a job, he's got a roof over his head, but he loves Neymar. Foolishly, desperately, utterly loves Neymar, and now more than ever Neymar can't work out why. Leo's working so hard, and so long for a man who whores himself out, who spent most of the day flirting with someone who's only trying to help. Neither Leo, nor Phil needs Neymar in their lives.

Neymar forces his feet back into his boots, and laces them tightly. He should leave, he should just go, leave them both to get on with their lives, and forget about him. He's certain he won't forget either of them, but his memory is terrible, and with time they might fade into the white noise that makes up most of Neymar's memories. He's pulling on his coat when the phone rings. He knows its Leo, is completely and utterly certain it's Leo, and Neymar's paralyzed with indecision. Leaving is for the best. Even this half-life isn't what Neymar deserves, but he adores it all the same. He loves Leo, loves him more than there are words to say, he's growing unfathomably fond of spending time with Phil, he doesn't want to lose either of them, but he's not good enough for them. He was a terrible person in the past, and Neymar must reap the crop his old self sowed. Only he might not have been terrible, Phil liked him, Phil loved him, so he can't have been all that bad.

Neymar has no idea why he'd chosen to sleep under the desk come the morning, and even less idea why Leo chose to sleep there with him. He has the suspicion he'd been seeking refuge from his circular, and painful thoughts, but Leo's motivation is a mystery. Their argument, if it could be called an argument, and not just Leo calling him on his stupidity, had felt pointless. Leo had told him what he wanted, and needed to hear, but all Neymar can think of his the little white lie he'd told. He knows why Phil left him, he knows, it's stuck with him from the moment he'd heard it. Even before the accident, even before Neymar existed, he had secrets. Neymar was nothing but secrets, and he was afraid of them. He was afraid, and Phil couldn't look after him, so he left. He left the real Neymar, presumably, thinking that he would find someone to help him, because that was his modus operandi; if he couldn't get what he needed from one person, he'd find another who'd provide for him. Only it seems Phil had underestimated how much Neymar believed he was the one who could help, because Neymar's certain that there was no one filling in for Phil. Neymar's sure that once Phil left things fell apart for him, even if Neymar has no evidence of this, he's sure of it.

"So... Will you tell me anything about you?" Leo's voice cuts through Neymar's thoughts. It's as soft as the strokes Leo's been giving his skin, a gentle caress of words to match the gentle caresses of Leo's hands.

"I... I know how old I am." Neymar mutters, and Leo nods, his arms tightening around Neymar. "I used to rent an apartment downtown... It's big, expensive looking. Either I had money or a sugar daddy." Neymar laughs, and Leo rolls over, pulling Neymar with him. Neymar rearranges himself so he's braced over Leo, resting on his elbows. "And today, well today, I found out I've got a sister. We look super alike, and Couti says that he thinks we're super similar personality-wise, but he's never met Rafaella, that's my sister. I don't know where she is, and I don't think she’d wanna see me, though I'd like to see her, cause we fell out somehow. It's like my parents, I found out about them last week. I've got my birth certificate in my pocket. It's that insane? I've got a birth certificate. I wonder if I could drive. I wonder if there's a driver's license with my face on it. Oh! I saw my signature too... I must have had a bank account... I should ask Couti, but will he know? He might, but I don't- I'll ask. Where was I? My parents? They're still in Brazil as far as Couti knows, but again we fell out. Couti's not sure on the reasons, but I think I was a bastard, an ill-tempered bastard who liked to argue. Couti says I'm pragmatic, but I'm sticking with bastard. I wish I knew what happened with my family, Couti says he doesn't know, but I think he'll help me find out, but I don't wanna keep bothering him, but I dunno. Oh! Couti! I keep talking about him, but not saying anything about him. We were friends. Good friends, best friends, I think we might still be friends, I hope we're still friends, cause I'd like a friend. I mean I've got you, and I love you, and I know you love me, but I don't know if we're friends. I don't think you have to be someone's friend to be their lover, do you? I don't think so... Blah-blah-blah. So me and Couti-"

"You gonna breathe at all, Neymar?" Leo interrupts with a laugh, and a blush rushes to Neymar's cheeks. "It sounds like you and the good doctor Couti have been bonding pretty well... And you idiot, of course we're friends. I love you, love you so much, but I still like you." Leo kisses Neymar softly; his hands cradle Neymar's face carefully, his eyes running over Neymar's features like he can't decide where to look first. "One thing though, who's Couti?"

"Couti? Uh... That's Phil... The doctor." Neymar hadn't even realized he'd called Phil, Couti.

"You got a pet name for him already, huh? Should I be worried?" Leo laughs, and Neymar shakes his head slowly. Leo doesn't need to worry about Phil. Neymar loves Leo, loves him wholly and completely. Even if he likes the doctor, it's nothing like his feelings Leo, but he does like Phil. He likes the little burn of fire in his stomach when Phil touches him, likes the strange energy between them, likes the unexpected comfort he feels beside him. There's a part of Neymar that would like to remember how he felt about Phil, a foolish little part that'd like to compare his feelings for Leo with the real Neymar for Phil.

"You don't need to worry about anyone stealing me away, Leo." Neymar laughs and Leo stares up at him thoughtfully.

"Why are you working?" The tone the question's given is quietly sad, and Neymar wishes Leo hadn't asked. He has answers, but they're not good answers.

"I don't want to burden you-"

"You're mine." Leo whispers fiercely. "You're... I want to look after you, Neymar. I want to provide for you... Buy you things, keep you safe..." Leo closes his eyes, and pulls Neymar down against his chest.

"I know, but I... I'm bored? I guess that's close enough... There's nothing for me to do, there's only me, and my notes... I get caught in a cycle of reading them over, and over hoping that something'll just click into place, and it doesn't, so I get frustrated." Neymar sighs, and squirms so he's lying beside Leo rather than on top of him. "I'll find something else to do... I'll apply to places-"

"You're still healing. Rest, get stronger, then we'll find you something." Leo interrupts, and Neymar's reminded of Phil saying basically the same thing to him yesterday. "You never know, maybe your doctor can tell you what you used to do."

"Or give me my old sugar daddy's number." Neymar laughs and Leo smiles at him indulgently. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Leo looks surprised, and Neymar smiles at him softly. His hands tangle in Leo's hair and Neymar pulls him into a kiss. The sort of kiss that builds from gentle and slow to fast and hard. The sort of kiss that leaves Neymar pinned to the bed by a smirking Leo. The sort of kiss they've not had in months.

"For far too much, and not enough." Neymar grins and Leo narrows his eyes at him.

"You trying to be all mysterious, baby?" Leo teases, nipping at Neymar's throat. "I like it... You know how much I like riddles."

"Hmm... I've a riddle for you." Neymar moans, as Leo's hands slide down Neymar's body to card through his pubic hair. "What's been empty for far too long?"

"You wana have sex, Neymar?" Leo smirks, and Neymar grins back. He's missed Leo inside of him. That might be last reason he was out working. He's missed feeling desired, and it seems like Leo's finally going to give him what he wants.

"Thought you'd never ask."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	14. Cristiano

Honesty is important, though scurriers don't employ it as often as they should. Scurriers tell each other lies constantly. Big lies, little lies, white lies, lies of omission; avoiding the truth is their specialty. It's something Leo has always been disdainful of, and has never let anyone get away with. If you lie to Leo, he'll know and the consequences are harsh, but as he lies stroking down Neymar's back, feeling sated, he can't help but feel like he's being lied to. He's not sure why, but he's certain Neymar's not telling him the whole truth of his meetings with the doctor, or why he's out working. There's always been honesty between them, never has there been even the slightest hint of deception, but Leo can't shake the feeling that Neymar's omitting something. He can't work out how to bring it up, not when Neymar's softly nuzzling at his neck, and placing little nipping bites along it, but he can't let this sit between them too long. Omissions, little, or white lies are fine for scurriers, but they're not part of that. Leo might have a job, they might have a place to stay, but they're homeless. Even with a roof over their heads, they know the struggle of the streets, and they know the necessity of full disclosure between them.

"So..." Neymar shifts so he's lying beside Leo, his hand running through Leo's chest hair slowly. "What's on the cards for today?"

"Today? Hmm... I dunno. I could go round two." Leo grins, and Neymar smiles at him lazily, then a briefly panicked look crosses his face.

"I need to call Phil." He mutters, flopping onto his back. "He's two days off this week, and I said I'd call today."

"You two seem close." Leo shifts so he's braced over Neymar, their faces close together.

"You don't need to worry about him." Neymar mutters offhandedly, one of his hands tangle in Leo's hair, pulling him down for a kiss. "But, I should call." Neymar glances away.

"You gonna go see him today?" Leo asks, and instantly feels stupid. The look that flitted over Neymar's face makes it very clear that he would like to spend more time with the doctor, and Leo can't really blame Neymar. This is the only way for him to find out who he was, and Leo has no right to deny him that knowledge.

"You could come." Neymar offers with a smile. There's a lot of Leo that wants to say no, a lot of him that wants to let Neymar have his time with the doctor alone, but there's a far bigger part of him that's uncomfortable with another man being able to give Neymar so much.

"Yeah... Alright, I'd love to come." Leo smiles and Neymar beams back at him. Leo honestly can't remember the last time Neymar looked so happy about anything, and it's strangely gratifying to see.

"Cool, I'll call Couti, and see what he thinks." Neymar leans up and pecks Leo on the nose, the grin on his lips not moving. "Thank you... I...I want you two to get on. I love you, and he's my friend. I want you to be friends too." Neymar smiles and Leo nods awkwardly. He's not looking to make friends with the doctor; this is nothing more than reconnaissance. He's meeting this doctor to see what he is to Neymar. It's dangerously close to a lie, and Leo feels grubby for it.

"I'm gonna take a shower." Leo mutters, and slips out of the bed. As he's about to close the bathroom door, the cell phone tossed carelessly onto of the table they'd slept under last night chirps.

Meet me at the diner across from the club. - Cristiano Ronaldo

Leo stares at the text, and sighs, tossing the phone over to Neymar.

"Send him a message back, and ask him what time, okay?" Neymar stares down at the cell thoughtfully, his eyebrows knit.

"Who's Cristiano?" He starts typing, and Leo finds himself staring at the slightly odd sight of Neymar holding the little machine as carefully as he'd hold a bomb.

"He's one of my bosses-"

"Bosses?" Neymar mutters, his attention still caught by the phone. "Is 'what time will I meet you' okay?" He finally glances up, and Leo loses a fight with a laugh. There's a strangely proud look on Neymar's face, and it's entirely far more than Leo can handle without laughing. "What?"

"Nothing..." Leo walks back over to the bed, and kisses Neymar lightly. He eases Neymar to his back once more, the desire to shower forgotten in the face of indulging in Neymar again. Leo's hands are stroking down Neymar's sides when another chirp comes from the cell, shrilly destroying the moment. Neymar glances at it with lazy irritation, grabs the phone, reads the message, then he gazes up at Leo blankly.

"Eleven sharp, dress nice." Neymar repeats the message coolly, and Leo groans, burying his face against the side of Neymar's neck. "Your boss wants to see you in about an hour... You better get a move on." Neymar squirms beneath him, and Leo grumbles slightly, nuzzling against Neymar's skin, earning soft moans for it. "C'mon... You don't wanna make him angry."

"Yeah, yeah... I'm going. You're gonna have to see your friend on your own." Leo mutters, stroking over the scar on Neymar's forehead. The statement is a truth, but the tone it's given in is a lie. He's not happy about Neymar spending more time with this doctor he doesn't know. He's not happy that this doctor has a cutesy nickname. He's not happy that Neymar seems delighted with the prospect of seeing his Couti again. He's not happy that the doctor buys Neymar things, that the doctor gives Neymar things that Leo never could. Memories, information, little shreds of evidence like the birth certificate, these are things Leo could never give Neymar, and he's not happy about it, but that tone is wryly cheerful, and the smile he forces to his lips is as well.

Whilst Leo showers, he can hear Neymar talking to the doctor, can hear him laughing at whatever it is they're talking about, and something ugly settles in the pit of his stomach. Neymar isn't a real person. He's a lot of things, but real isn't one of them. Neymar is the shell of a real person, he's the afterimage of a real person, he's a lie, and this doctor is giving him the truth. Piece by piece, Neymar's slowly learning who he really is, and there's nothing Leo can do but watch him find out.

"You've all day tomorrow off, right?" Neymar slips into the shower with him, and Leo wraps his arms around him tightly.

"I miss you... Fuck, but I miss you. Tomorrow, I'm not letting you go. The rest of the world can fuck off, cause I'm spending the day with you. I wanna buy you some pants, I wanna buy you shirts, and ice cream, and a nice notebook for your information, and-"

"All I want is a day with you." Neymar interrupts, a smile on his lips as he rests his forehead against Leo's shoulder. "I don't want things, Leo... How many times do I have to say it? All I want is you."

"I'm not en-"

"You're more than enough, you idiot... You're more than I deserve, so much more." The smile on Neymar's lips is false, the look in his eyes makes it a blatant lie, but Leo can't bring himself to argue with him.

"Well... Don't blame me if you get bored tomorrow." Leo laughs, and pulls Neymar in for a kiss. He's not sure what Neymar was lying to him about, but Leo's pretty certain it all comes down to Neymar's self-esteem. They need to talk about it, they need to make Neymar realize that he is the entirety of the reason Leo is doing this. If it wasn't for Neymar, Leo would have fallen into old bad habits long ago. Neymar is why Leo's where he is, and without Neymar Leo's sure he'd be in prison or dead. Neymar can doubt his worth as much as he likes, but it won't change the fact that he's invaluable and irreplaceable to Leo.

 

"Hey Leo..." Cristiano smiles slightly, and Leo glances up from his cup of coffee. He'd been caught in staring at the picture in the foam. Never in his life has he seen a more pointless waste of art. It was nice, but the leaf did nothing to hide the truth that the coffee is over-priced, overly-sweet, and not all that good.

"Hmm?" He offers his boss a slight smile, getting a wider grin from Cristiano.

"I... You wanna come to dinner tonight?" Leo shrugs in response to Cristiano's question. He'd blown off going to see the doctor because he'd thought this would be work related, but it seems that Cristiano is only interested in him. Instead of being in this diner, he could have been monitoring Neymar's interactions with the doctor, he could have been sizing up the competition, because the doctor is competition. Neymar might tell him he doesn't need to worry about anyone stealing Neymar's heart away, but there's no way that Neymar can't be feeling something towards the doctor. Gratitude can turn to desire very quickly, and Leo's not entirely happy about Neymar meeting with the doctor alone all the time. He's very probably jealous, and there's a part of Leo that is slowly convincing himself of reasons to be jealous. The doctor is the key to Neymar's past, and Leo's spent years trying to fulfill that role, as much as he's jealous of the potential of what might have been between Neymar and the doctor, there's just as much of Leo's that's jealous the doctor already knows who Neymar was. They're both mildly stupid reasons to be jealous of the doctor, but Leo can't really help the way he feels about it all.

"Will Sergio be coming? I'm sure my boyfriend would like to meet you both." Leo smiles awkwardly, ignoring the slight grimace that flits over Cristiano's face at the mention of boyfriend. He's not entirely sure he wants Neymar to meet either of these two, but he supposes it's fairly important to let Neymar know the people in Leo's life, especially if Leo wants to meet the doctor properly. They both have their own little side lives away from each other, but Leo wants to be a part of every aspect of Neymar's life, so that means letting him be a part of every part of Leo's life.

"Sure, all four of us." Cristiano sounds far less happy, but Leo feels like a weight's been lifted from his shoulders, with Neymar and Sergio there, Cristiano will have other people to look at. He's not comfortable with the way Cristiano stares at him like a starved lion stares at a gazelle. He's seen the look in the eyes of customers who'd not take no for an answer when he'd been whoring. Those people are the kind of people who have no problem bashing you over the head, or slipping drugs into your drink.

"Great! So where'll we meet you?" Leo takes a drink from his coffee, feeling far more content with it as when he glances back down at the foam, the pretentious little leaf has been destroyed. It looks like the too expensive, too sweet, not that good coffee it is, a little glimmer of honesty in what was a moment of scurrier duplicity.

"There's a place near the club... A little place Gerard's I think it's called." Cristiano's smile is slightly less awkward, and Leo finds himself biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He knows that restaurant, and knows it well, because he and Neymar helped the owner move shipments into the storeroom many times when they were on the streets. "Around six?"

"Yeah... Six should be fine." Leo finishes his coffee, and sits back in his chair. "The food's pretty good there." Leo knows it's pretty good a few hours old, so he can only imagine how good it is when it's freshly cooked to order. He'll have to grab something nice for Neymar to wear, something that isn't the one nice sweater and pair of jeans he owns. It won't be much, but it'll be something that Leo's given him, and Leo's grimly aware he'll feel far too pleased seeing Neymar dressed in clothes he's bought.

When Leo gets back to the motel room, with a bag of decent clothes from a thrift store, it's empty, and he ends up lying on the bed watching TV, waiting for Neymar.

 

"We'll work something out, Ney." Leo sits up at the sound of the voice from the other side of the door.

"Yeah... Well, you'll work something out, and I'll-"

"Need to clear some time to sort through it all." Neymar laughs at the doctor's comment, but surprisingly he doesn't sound offended like Leo had expected. Neymar is unhappy with his perception of his lack of contribution to their financial situation, but Leo's far unhappier with the idea of Neymar selling himself, and the doctor's joke had been at the expense of Neymar not being gainfully employed.

"Yeah, cause I'm so busy." Neymar's voice is difficult to hear; quiet and unobtrusive as though he's trying to avoid being heard.

"Have you... I mean... Don't do that anymore, okay? I know you're-"

"You don't know anything, Couti." Neymar snaps and the doctor sighs. Leo has the terrible feeling he shouldn't be listening in to this, but it's insightful. "But... I... I won't go out... I'll think of something else."

"You learned how to read again, right?" The doctor says quietly, and Leo can feel a frown forming at the period of silence that follows. "Good. I've got a favor to ask you." What the doctor says next Leo doesn't hear, the silence after his request for a favor is long, and uncomfortable.

"I'll see you next week?" Neymar sounds strangely happy and Leo's relieved by that. If he's happy with whatever task the doctor gave him, it'll keep him from taking to prostitution once more.

"C'mon... That's a stupid question." The doctor laughs and Leo can picture the slightly uncomfortable, but delighted expression that must be on Neymar's face based on the sound of his own chuckle.

"Ha, yeah I guess... I'm never gonna get rid of you this time." Neymar laughs, and there's another period of silence between them. Leo thinks he can hear some mumbling, but he can't be sure, and he's not willing to get closer to the door to find out. "Okay, I'll call you."

"Actually, I'll call you... Tuesday? You'll be free then, right?" Leo narrows his eyes at the door, wondering what the doctor could want to be calling Neymar about, but it's probably none of his business, though if it's relating to Neymar, it's Leo's business by default.

"Oh? Cool! Next week maybe you can meet Leo." Neymar sounds ridiculously happy about this idea, and Leo winces. He decides he's eavesdropped long enough, and slinks into the bathroom to have an excuse to offer Neymar when he enters the room.

It takes Neymar another five minutes to enter the room, and Leo waits a few seconds before flushing the toilet pointlessly, and washing his hands.

"You just back?" Leo calls as he leaves the bathroom. Neymar's leafing through the bag on the bed, holding the clothes up randomly, an odd little look on his face.

"I like the shirt." He smiles slightly as he holds a blue plaid shirt up to his chest. "I don't know if it's your color though... I might steal it." He winks, and Leo crosses the room to sweep him up in an embrace.

"I'm glad you like it, baby, cause I bought it for you." Leo grins, and Neymar glances back at the shirt, then at the other items he's scattered over the bed. "Do me some modelling?" Leo releases him, and flops down on the bed.

"You bought this for me?" Neymar's staring down at the random collection of fabric, his expression flitting between embarrassed and elated.

"Yup." Leo sits up, and picks through the remaining clothes in the bag. "And some new boxers."

"You get socks too?" Neymar laughs and Leo produces a fresh pack of socks. He'd gone to a cheap store to buy them new, and is strangely pleased with himself for it. They're small things, but they're things he's provided for Neymar with his own money, and there's a strange sense of pride filling him because of it. Neymar starts pulling off his clothes, a mix of his homeless outfit and the nicer outfit the doctor bought, to change into the shirt he seems quite fond of, and a pair of decent if loose jeans. "So, what did your boss want?"

"Basically to invite us to dinner." Leo mutters, twirling his finger around, indicating he'd like to see Neymar's back. "Bend over."

"What? Why?" Neymar turns around, and Leo laughs at him.

"Cause I wanna check out your ass." Neymar snorts at Leo's comment, but does bend over. The denim is still a little too baggy for Leo's liking, but it does hug the curve of Neymar's ass nicely when he bends over.

"I meant dinner, you perv." Neymar mumbles, and stands up, absently fingering the buttons of the shirt. "Does this suit me? I like it, but I don't know... It's a little nice for me..."

"It looks amazing." Leo scoots down the bed, and pulls Neymar down to him. "Wear the doctor's sweater over it, and the nice jeans he gave you, and you'll look incredible." Leo kisses Neymar slowly, pulling him further down, and onto the bed.

"So, are you going to dinner with your boss?" Neymar asks quietly once Leo breaks the kiss.

"We are going to dinner with my bosses." Leo corrects him, stroking a finger over Neymar's scar. "You're going to charm them with your pretty face, awesome ass, and charming wit, while I scarf down all the food." Leo laughs, and Neymar snorts disdainfully.

"Somehow I doubt everything but the last one. When and where?" Neymar absently starts running his fingers through Leo's hair, scratching at his scalp gently.

"Six at Gerard's... You remember Gerard, right? The big guy with blue eyes who owns the restaurant." Leo watches Neymar trying to remember the man, smiling when recognition lights up Neymar's face.

"We're eating there? Man... The food was good old and cold... Just think how good it'll be hot and fresh." Neymar's grinning, and Leo can't help but return the grin.

"I know, right."

It takes them a surprisingly long time to get ready to go, apparently going out as scurriers is a far longer, more drawn out process than Leo had realized. It involved a lot Neymar nervously picking at his clothes looking unhappily in the mirror, and Leo fussing over his facial, concerns that had never been a problem on the streets. Leo's sure that anyone will be able to look at them and see the lie of how they're dressed. It's plain to Leo that they're homeless playacting at being scurriers, but no one calls them on it, and no one questions them when they arrive at the restaurant.

 

"Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus." Gerard's apparently working the door, and the man looks shocked but pleased to see them. He pulls Neymar into a firm hug, then holds him out at arm's length. "Last time I saw you, my man, you looked like you'd died... Leo, you looking after him, huh?" The man pulls Leo into a hug too, and grins at them. "You finally got your feet back under you, boys?"

"Getting there." Leo smiles at the man, getting a hearty laugh from him.

"Well, you're here as customers-"

"Paying customers." Neymar grins, and Gerard snorts at him.

"You're my friend, Neymar. You think I'mma let you pay me? You're just getting yourself together. I'm not letting you give me money! C'mon, what you take me for, eh?" Gerard laughs, and slings his arm around Neymar's shoulders. "Hey, Shak!" He clicks his fingers, and a harried-looking young woman comes over. "Best seat in the house for my friends. You make sure they're looked after, alright?"

"Yes, Geri." She mumbles, looking embarrassed, then stops, staring at Neymar. "Holy- It's you!" She pulls Neymar into a hug, and Leo stares at the pair.

"Neymar here beat some would be muggers up for my little princess a couple of years ago. Ever since he refused anything I offered him... Damn white knight complex or something... But tonight I'mma gonna make sure that you two are well looked after." Gerard looks incredibly pleased with himself, and Leo's only mildly surprised by yet another tale of Neymar's deeds on the streets. Neymar is always claiming that he forgot who he was because he was a bad person, that he's on the streets because the perceived badness of the real Neymar, it makes sense that as Neymar he always tried to do good to make up for the bad.

"It wasn't that big a deal... She'd have been fine on her own, she's a tough woman." Neymar mumbles, looking embarrassed.

"We're meeting some people actually, Gerard... A Sergio Ramos and a Cristiano Ronaldo? I don't know what they'll have booked the table under." Leo interrupts before the woman can protest Neymar's claim he didn't do much. Leo's seen him in a fight, Neymar can more than handle himself, and Leo doesn't doubt that Neymar's underplaying the events.

"Shakira, the two guys at the back table, tell them they're moving to a different one, best table in the house. Those two pay, these two do not." Gerard grins, and waves his wife away. "And Neymar, the cannelloni are particularly good tonight, I made them myself."

"You don't have-"

"The tiramisu as well, Shak makes the best in the whole city. Now off you go." The man turns from them to the next customers, and Shakira leads them over to their table.

"I'm gonna go ahead and just order you pair the best on the menu." She tells them as she shows both Neymar and Leo to their seats. "I know Geri would be devastated if you didn't try his cannelloni, but I know you love the calzone, Leo... So I'll make you up a doggy bag. You want some wine?" Neymar shakes his head in response to her question, and for a brief moment Leo considers, but decides against it after looking at Cristiano. He's wearing an expression that's on the surface genial, but just underneath there's blatant bile. Neymar hasn't, and thankfully won't, notice but Leo can't avoid it. Cristiano's distaste for Neymar is plain, and Leo thinks keeping a clear head will help him deal with his boss.

"Just some water, Shakira." Leo smiles at the woman, and she tuts slightly.

"Geri'll be mad if you try and take tap water, so you're getting the fancy bottle stuff." She laughs, and wanders off, quickly returning with two glasses, and two bottles of water that look ridiculously expensive. "First course won't be long. Did you two gentlemen already place an order?" She turns to Cristiano and Sergio, quickly making a note of their orders.

"I wasn't aware you were dating a local celebrity." Cristiano's voice is coolly dismissive, and Leo notes that the tone makes Neymar curl into himself slightly. The encounter with the restaurant owner and his wife had buoyed Neymar up somewhat, he'd seemed nearly confident for the first time since he'd left the motel room, but that illusion of confidence just crumbled in the face of Cristiano's comment.

"I uh... I helped once." Neymar takes a drink of his water, and seems determined to look at nothing but the tablecloth. Leo frowns slightly, and decides to try to make this all a little easier for Neymar to bear, introducing him to the two men sat opposite might put him at ease some, and if nothing else it gives Leo something useful to say.

"Cristiano, Sergio, this is my boyfriend-"

“Neymar." Neymar cuts in with an awkward smile, and Leo glances over at him.

"So Neymar." Sergio pronounces carefully as a strained smile settles on his lips. "Leo's neatly avoided telling us anything about you." Neymar laughs awkwardly in response to Sergio's statement, and glances at Leo out of the corner of his eye. Leo reaches over to Neymar, and catches his hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I..." Neymar starts, but falters quickly. He looks desperately uncomfortable, and Leo squeezes his hand once more. "I'm not good at talking about myself." A self-conscious smile steals over his lips as he glances over at Leo, who gives him a broad reassuring grin, and places a quick kiss over the scar on his temple. "Long time ago I was in an accident... My memory's been unreliable since then, I don't really remember any-"

"I'm sorry." Cristiano interrupts; he looks slightly irritated by the little displays of affection Leo's showing Neymar, but Leo really couldn't care less. Neymar isn't comfortable with this, and if he stays being uncomfortable, Leo'll make excuses for them both, and leave the restaurant. Shakira's already promised them a doggy bag, and the calzone from the restaurant were always incredible cold, hot is something Leo can't wait to try. "I'm sure it's difficult." Cristiano smiles broadly at Neymar, but there's something off about the expression in his eyes, and Neymar starts staring down at the space between his knife and fork. "So, Leo... How did you meet Neymar?" Cristiano seems to be actively ignoring Neymar, his entire body turned away from him, and Leo can feel ire building in him, but appearances are important. To keep his job he'll act out a few lies to appease the man staring at him.

"How did we meet?" Leo laughs slightly, and scoots a little closer to Neymar, holding his hand tighter. "On the streets... A chance encounter." Leo nudges Neymar shoulder lightly, dragging Neymar's attention from the tablecloth. "You remember?"

"Yeah... I remember... we-"

"So was it long ago?" Cristiano interrupts once more, and Neymar seems to curl into himself a little more, Leo holds back the urge to smack his boss, but he does catch the look on Sergio's face, a sharply annoyed expression that has Leo smiling gratefully at him.

"Years ago." Neymar mumbles, then stands. "I'm gonna-"

"I'll come with you." Sergio stands as well, and the pair leave Leo alone with the smirking Cristiano.

"He seems... Quiet." Cristiano's not looking at Leo as he makes that comment, instead he's staring intently at Sergio and Neymar. "Not at all what I expected someone like you going for." He turns his attention to Leo.

"He's... I can't explain it... He's perfect for me." Leo smiles awkwardly, and Cristiano laughs.

"No such thing as perfect, Leo... Everyone has their flaws, their weaknesses, their temptations." Cristiano takes a sip of his wine, and all but leers at Leo. "So what's the deal with his memory?"

"You could have let him explain." Leo manages to stop from snapping that comment, but it was delivered a little more harshly than it should have been. Cristiano laughs at him, and rests his chin on his laced fingers.

"I'm asking you... You've got a much more pleasant speaking voice." Cristiano smirks again, and Leo takes a long drink of his water.

"Before I met him, he was in an accident... The scar on his forehead-"

"What scar?" Cristiano cuts in, and Leo takes another drink of water to keep from complaining. It seems that interrupting people is just something Cristiano does.

"There's a big scar on his temple." Leo closes his eyes, picturing the stark reminder of Neymar's mysterious accident. "Anyway, as a result of the accident he lost his memories-"

"Amnesia? Jesus... You're dating a character from a terrible movie, maybe even a shitty comic bo-"

"Stop." Leo snaps, and Cristiano has the decency to look abashed. "Look, I get it, you wanna get in my pants, but I love him, and I'm not interested in sleeping with you, so please just be nice to the man I love, or fire me." Cristiano sits back in his chair, a startled and contrite expression on his face.

"I'm sorry... I... I'm not used to being rejected. I'll apologize to him." Cristiano smiles, and this time it seems more sincere.

"Don't, it'll make him uncomfortable... He lost everything to that accident. Who he was, what he knew, how to read people... He... Just-"

"Be nice?" Cristiano's smile softens, and Leo glances away from him. When he's not leering, or being unpleasant, Cristiano's an attractive guy, but he knows it, and that makes it infuriating.

"So, we miss anything interesting?" Sergio asks as he takes his seat. Leo glances around expecting Neymar to be with him, but Neymar's nowhere to be seen. "We were accosted just outside the little boy's room by a loud gentleman called Luis, I believe."

"Luis." Leo mutters, and stands. "I should go say hi."

When he gets to the bathroom, Neymar's standing in the middle of a small group of kitchen staff along with the guy from the deli. It seems as though the deli worker is holding court, the group all laughing at his story.

"So I says to the guy- Leo! My man! How you doing? Neymar here tells me you're a working man these days! How come you never told me, huh? And you never told me that this one was sick! Leo, I'm hurt, I thought we was friends." Luis grabs at his heart dramatically, and Neymar laughs at him.

"Escaped my mind... I was too busy trying to keep him from dying." Leo presses as kiss to Neymar's temple as soon as he's close enough, and Neymar snuggles up to him with a smile on his lips.

"So, Neymar tells me that those two are your bosses, and the big one is an asshole." Leo glances from Luis and Neymar in surprise. It's not like Neymar to form an opinion, especially a negative opinion, on someone so quickly.

"I could spit in his soup." One of the kitchen staff chimes in, and another round of laughter breaks out.

"I gave him a warning, but if I scratch my nose, feel free to do your worst gentlemen." Leo laughs, and the restaurant employees cackle in amusement.

"We should get back... Don't want to make an even worse impression on the guys employing you." Neymar's voice is quietly resigned, and Leo nods slightly, silently hoping that Cristiano will be nicer this time.

"Neymar, remember what I said, okay?" Luis cuts in, and Neymar nods sharply. "As soon as you have it, you call me, and you're in. I'm the boss now, I make the decisions, and-"

"I know, soon as I have my number I'll call you." Neymar smiles, and pats the apparently now deli owner on the shoulder, letting Leo guide him back to their table.

"When did Luis take over the deli?" Leo asks, his arm tightening around Neymar's waist as they approach their seats.

"Few months ago. His dad died, and now it's his. He says as soon as I have my social security number he'll give me a job." Neymar smiles tentatively. "I'm not sure how good I'll be at making sandwiches, but a real job."

"Yup, a real job, baby. I'm proud of you, and well, I guess your doctor has a mission to find your number then." Leo mutters, and Neymar stops walking suddenly.

"I should call Couti... Maybe he's some idea of where it could be! I should-"

"Come and eat first. He'll be working or sleeping or something." Leo tugs on Neymar lightly, prompting him into action once more.

"Yeah, you're right, but I could have a job... I could have a job soon... I wouldn't be useless-"

"You're not useless." Leo snaps, and Neymar snorts in response. Leo pulls out Neymar's chair once they arrive back at the table, and pushes him closer to the table, letting Leo whisper in his ear. "You could never be useless, because without you there'd be no me." When Leo sits down, he notes a blush on Neymar's cheeks on his brown skin, and a little smile he can't chase away, a little smile Leo never wants Neymar to be able to chase away.

The rest of dinner passes far more pleasantly. Cristiano isn't actively ignoring, or being rude to Neymar, but it's still clear that he's more interested in Leo. Half way through the main course, Cristiano and Sergio swap seats, making Cristiano opposite Leo rather than diagonally across from him. It seems Sergio is more interested in talking to Neymar, and Neymar seems to be enjoying listening to Sergio's increasingly humorous stories from the nightclub. Neymar had told a story of his own, one about his doctor friend and some exploit from A&E, some tall tale about the ridiculous reasons people go to Accident and Emergency rooms. Sergio had thought it was hilarious, and dissolved into laughter, while Cristiano had actually appeared to be listening to Neymar, and had chuckled in genuine amusement.

The next day, Leo spends with Neymar. They lounge around in bed till the afternoon, then head to the bank to open an account. It takes time, but in the end, Leo leaves the proud owner of a brand new account, and the promise of an ATM card in the mail. It was only a day together, but it's a day that Leo keeps to the forefront of his mind for the rest of the week.

A week with a routine, a week where he comes back to the motel room late, a little drunk, and a lot tired. A week where he sleeps plastered to Neymar's back. A week where he wakes up to the sight of Neymar with his nose buried in some book he always slams shut and hides when he notices Leo's awake. A week where he goes to work, and Cristiano basically ignores him, whilst Sergio looks between them with concern. A week where Leo clings to the memory of day spent with the honesty of the streets. A week that ends with a text message that reads:

I'll let you know when we need your services again. - Cristiano Ronaldo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone still reading this ? lol


	15. Phil

Neymar had expected the dinner with Leo's bosses to go horribly, but it was far better than he'd expected. He'd felt awkward, and out of place all night, the brief moments of respite from knowing how much Leo's dating beneath him were far and few between. All night Cristiano had been gazing at Leo, and all night Leo had been laughing and talking to his boss. There had been a part of Neymar that was relieved that Leo gets on with him so well, and a part that had seethed with something close to jealousy. The day after the dinner had been good, perhaps the best day that they've had since Leo started working, but the niceness of that one day didn't last too long. Very quickly, it was back to the same routine, and Neymar was left spending his time missing Leo, and reading, lots of reading.

"Knock, knock." Neymar glances over at the door in confusion. Phil has told him last week that he'd call on Tuesday, but all day the phone's been silent. Neymar's not entirely sure he minds, he's been plenty busy. The last time he met with the doctor, Phil had given him a diary. It's a simple little black book, written in a code that Phil had told Neymar he couldn't read. Neymar had fully expected to be thwarted by the real Neymar's diary too, but on opening it, he'd recognized the code. It's very similar to the code Neymar uses, used to write down his appointments with regular clients. It's nothing fancy, a simple cipher, but it had thrown Neymar to see this diary full of a code that he could mostly understand all the same. Ever since Phil gave him the diary he's been working on translating what it says, trying to piece together what the real Neymar was writing down. So far all Neymar's really gotten is a headache, and confusion. The real Neymar seemed to record nothing of any importance, and had a fondness for disjointed rambling and bad poetry. It's almost like this book is a decoy to distract from the real diary, but Neymar has the feeling that the simple code overlies another more complex code he doesn't understand, or he really did like writing the sort of poetry that would make fourteen year olds proud.

"Hello?" Neymar mumbles as he opens the motel room door, and is greeted by the sight of Phil looking exhausted whilst holding a bag of takeaway containers. "C'mon in." Neymar steps aside, and ushers Phil in. "It's late." It's a stupid, if accurate observation, and Phil laughs softly, taking a seat in the one chair in the room.

"I'm just off a shift, and I wanted to bring you this before I went home." Phil smiles brightly.

"You wanted to bring me food?" Neymar raises an eyebrow, and gestures to the bag still dangling from Phil's hand. It might be just for the doctor, but it's a big bag, and there's no way he'd carry it all the way from his car to the motel room if some of it wasn't for Neymar.

"Ha, you got me. How's your chopstick handling?" Phil starts pulling the containers from the bag, and Neymar comes over to perch on the edge of the bed. Neymar frowns at him, uncertain as to why Phil would be asking him that question.

"I've never used chopsticks, Couti... You're gonna have to-"

"Ta-da! One fork! Though I will teach you how to eat with sticks if you like." Phil grins, Neymar takes the fork from him, a wry smirk twisting his lips. Neymar's certain that he'd be thwarted by the chopsticks, and the lazy grin on Phil's face says he thinks so too. "I didn't just come here to feed you, well, I mean it was part of the reason, but-." Phil starts opening the containers, and Neymar gawps at them.

"What the hell... Sushi?" The little covered trays Phil's laid out on the desk are not what he was expecting at all. There's some noodles, but most of the food is raw fish and rice, which Neymar doesn't think he's ever tried it in his life.

"You... Well, the real Neymar liked sushi, so I wondered if you would too, but if not..." Phil gestures to the noodles, a toothy grin on his face.

"I'll try it." Neymar smiles slightly, and he waits patiently for the doctor to take the first piece. He's the guest, so he should eat first, and Neymar wants to watch so he can learn how to eat this sushi. "But only after you."

"Yeah, yeah." Phil deftly picks up a small delicate arrangement of fish and rice, dips it in a little soy sauce, and then eats it. Neymar feels rather barbaric stabbing the sushi with his fork, but he's certain that there's no way he'd be able to manipulate the chopsticks with Phil's grace or skill. "So, this is what I was talking about last week." Phil pulls a thick sheath of papers from the bag, and tosses them onto the bed beside Neymar. "This fucking article... I swear it's more hassle than it's worth publishing bullshit in journals, but it looks good on the old resume." Phil laughs, and Neymar gingerly picks up the paper, leafing through it. He's sure being published looks amazing on resumes, whilst being homeless and a character from a shitty movie doesn't. Cristiano's contempt for Neymar's condition has been ticking over in his mind, and there's nothing much Neymar can do about it, but try to force himself to forget. It's usually so easy for him to forget things that it's annoying to him that Leo's boss's contempt for him is lingering so long in his mind.

"What if I don't under-"

"You don't need to, not really at least. All you just need to do is make sure it flows, and that all my commas are in the right place." Phil grins, and Neymar frowns at a misplaced comma in the third sentence on the page he's reading. "Here, red pen." Phil offers a red pen to Neymar, their fingers brushing lightly when Neymar accepts it from him. The little spark of warmth that flares from that point of contact is something Neymar is at once at ease with, and completely troubled by, so he doesn't dwell on it.

"Is there a time limit on this?" The words on the page mean very little to Neymar, but he supposes it's like Phil said, he doesn't need to understand what it says, he just needs to make sure other people can.

"Couple of weeks. I'm not in a big hurry for it." Phil taps the papers, drawing Neymar's attention to him. "Eat. You're looking thin, and sick, but mostly thin." Neymar nods, and stabs another piece of sushi. He's surprised by how much he likes it, surprised and relieved. He'd have felt guilty if he'd not liked it, but would have eaten it to spare Phil's feelings, which Neymar is sure Phil would have noticed, and then he'd have felt guilty, causing entirely too much feeling bad between them both. "We hanging out tomorrow?" Phil asks, and Neymar nods absently, taking another piece of sushi, his attention caught by the papers once more. He's not sure he understands the article, but it's interesting. "So... How's the diary coming? Do you understand any of what you was talking about?"

"Huh?" Neymar looks up from the papers, a slightly sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, this is kind of interesting." He shakes the papers in his hand a little, and Phil barks a soft laugh.

"Random esoteric knowledge always was your favorite kind." The smile that settles on his lips makes something turn to liquid in the pit of Neymar's stomach, and he looks away before he starts having inappropriate thoughts about his friend.

"It's not esoteric; you know what you've written about, Couti." Neymar smirks, and Phil nods absently, the smile not shifting one little bit, and Neymar's stomach is feeling no closer to solid. "So... Tomorrow is your day off, right?" Neymar forces himself to sound normal, but he thinks his voice is a little lower, a little huskier than it should be. Phil nods in response to Neymar's question, hiding a yawn behind his hand. "You tired?" Another nod and another yawn come in response to Neymar's second question. "Idiot... This could have waited till tomorrow." Neymar shakes his head, and Phil yawns a third time.

"I said I'd speak to you today though." He says eventually, clearly holding back yet another yawn. "I've let you down so-"

"I'd have understood if you wanted to get some sleep." Neymar snaps. There's no heat in his tone though, only something that to Neymar sounds painfully fond. "Finish this up." He gestures to the sushi, and Phil takes the last piece. "Shoes off."

"What?" Phil blinks at him stupidly, and Neymar sighs dramatically at him, before standing up, and crouching before the mildly bewildered doctor. He starts untying Phil's shoelaces, deftly dodging the half-hearted attempts to stop him Phil makes. "Ney, what the-"

"You're going to nap, and I'm going to read this over. I'll wake you up in like two hours, then you can head home." Neymar waves at the bed, and Phil looks at him dubiously. "You're too tired to drive right now. It'd be irresponsible of me to let you, so you can have my bed for a little bit."

"You sure? I can't see your boyfriend liking strangers sleeping in your bed." Phil makes a grab for his laces, and Neymar snorts, tugging one of Phil's shoes off.

"He's not here. He won't be back for hours, and Leo knows you're my friend, so he won't mind." Neymar grins and Phil rolls his eyes. He toes his other shoe off, and rubs his hand over the stubble on Neymar's head as he stands. Neymar forces away the warmth that floods him at the familiar gesture.

"I wanna meet your saintly boyfriend, you know that, right? He sounds pretty much perfect, and I wanna make sure that he is." There's a thick note of protectiveness in Phil's tone, and Neymar can feel his cheeks beginning to heat up. "Which side can I have?" Neymar pauses briefly considering the question. Leo sleeps on the right, and Neymar doesn't want Phil and Leo sharing spots for reasons he's in no mood to examine.

"Take the left." Neymar turns to look at the doctor with a smile, and Phil nods, before flopping onto the bed. Neymar takes the seat, and starts reading the article Phil gave him from page one, hoping it'll make more sense this time. After maybe ten minutes, Neymar realizes he's been incredibly rude, and glances over his shoulder at the prostrate figure of the doctor. "You want the light out?" Neymar calls out softly, but the only response is a quiet snore. Neymar wanders over to the bed quietly, and watches the doctor sleep for a moment. He looks pretty content, his eyes closed, a happily neutral expression on his face. There's a foolish urge to touch the sleeping doctor's face that Neymar manages to fight down, instead he drapes the thick wool coat the doctor had been wearing when he arrived in the motel room over him, and goes back to reading the article.

 

"I thought you were going to wake me up, not fall asleep in the chair." Phil's voice is heavily amused when it stirs Neymar from his sleep. "You have a good nap?" Neymar sits up quickly, self-consciously swiping at the side of his mouth, convinced there has to be drool there.

"Sorry... I guess I was more tired than I thought. I did read this through a few times though, and it seems okay, but I'm sure I've missed some errors. There's some stuff I wanna check too... I'm not entirely sure I remember what a colon does."

"It moves the shit through your body." Phil laughs, and Neymar rolls his eyes at him. "I know, I know, wrong colon." He laughs again. "So... How about tomorrow you, me, and your man have brunch? I was serious when I said I wanted to meet him."

"I'll ask him... He might be tired, or wanting to head to work early. He does that, you know. Leo's very dedicated to his job, even if his boss, well one of his bosses, is an asshole. Did I tell you about Cristiano?" Neymar spits the name, and Phil shakes his head as he sits to pull his shoes on. "So, we went to dinner last week, Leo, his two bosses, and me. One of them is really nice, well okay he's self-obsessed, and has the most annoying voice with thick Spanish accent, but he's at least friendly and let me finish a sentence. Can't remember his name, but he's got colorful tattoos, strong jaw. Nice guy... Anyway, then there's Cristiano." Phil raises an eyebrow at this, and Neymar rubs the back of his neck slightly embarrassed. "What?"

"You remember his name... You must really dislike the guy." Phil's eyes are narrowed, and Neymar smiles awkwardly.

"I've never... There was something off about him. He... Nothing I said he heard, he... All night he just stared at Leo. It was like there was no one else in the restaurant but Leo... My Leo." Neymar scowls and Phil laughs at him softly.

"Based on what I've seen, and heard about your Leo, he's going to be staying that way, even if this Cristiano guy likes him." Phil stands, and Neymar ducks his head. He can feel the rest of his rant on the tip of his tongue, but Phil looks like he's going to leave, and Neymar won't keep the poor man longer than he already has. "I better get home before your Leo gets back, it's nearly half three." Neymar glances over at the clock on the table on Leo's side of the bed, and is a little surprised by the time.

"Fuck... It's late, you should get to bed, Couti." Neymar stands and starts putting the empty food containers back into the plastic bag. "Wait a second, and I'll walk you to your car, I need to put this out to the trash." Phil nods, and helps Neymar clean up the mess from their shared dinner.

"So, you give me a ring tomorrow?" Phil asks on the way down the stairs.

"Yeah, I will do... Though, if I don't-"

"Come over, any time after noon, I'll be awake." Phil smiles at him and Neymar nods. "I'll see you later, Ney."

"Yeah." Neymar pulls Phil into a firm hug, holding tightly as he presses his face against the side of Phil's neck. "Later, Couti." Neymar lets go, and waves cheerily as Phil gets into his car and drives away. All the way back to the motel room, Neymar can feel the ghost of Phil's arms around him, and it unnerves him, because he likes being held by Phil. He's never liked anyone holding him but Leo before, but being in Phil's arms feels safe, and Neymar craves feeling safe almost more than anything else.

"You were out late." Leo's already home by the time Neymar makes it back to the motel room. He's leaning against a wall, his expression distant, and obviously drunk.

"Leo?" Neymar cautiously starts, uncertain what kind of a drunk Leo is. He's seen Leo tipsy, but he's never gotten properly drunk in front of Neymar until now.

"Yeah?" There's a singsong edge to Leo's voice, some kind of melodious mischievousness that Neymar hadn't expected, but is relieved by. It seems Leo's a more cheerful drunk than ones Neymar's encountered on the streets. "You weren't out working were you? I don't want you out whoring, baby... You're too good for that, too good for most things... Too good for me." Leo half stumbles, half staggers over to Neymar, and wraps his arms around Neymar's waist tightly. His breath is heavy with whisky, and it makes Neymar want to recoil, but the warmth of Leo's embrace cancels that desire out. The warmth of Leo's embrace cancels almost everything out. "Got really drunk tonight... Cris wanted to drink with me... I like Cris, but he was mean to you... I told him off though. Gotta be nice to my baby I said to him. I love my Neymar, and I ain't gonna let anyone be mean to him cause he's precious, and beautiful, and cute, and dangerous, and sexy, and you smell weird." Leo rambles in Neymar's ear, his hair smells of smoke, and Neymar wonders if he's noticing the fact he's walking them slowly, but surely closer to the bathroom. He wants Leo to shower before they share a bed tonight; he wants to smell Leo, and not alcohol or tobacco.

"Weird? How? I've not been working in a while, I should smell normal." Neymar mutters, and Leo freezes, a huge grin on his face.

"You've not? Baby, I'm proud of you!" He chuckles, and his hands move from Neymar's waist to his face. "I wish you could see how pretty you are..." Leo mumbles, his fingers tentatively stroking Neymar's skin. "Sometimes I'm scared to touch you cause you're so pretty."

"You're drunk, Leo... Very drunk. Let's shower, then sleep, okay?" Neymar smiles at him, trying to ignore the blush on his cheeks. Leo nods in acquiescence to Neymar's idea, causing relief to flood Neymar. He's fond of being held and caressed by Leo, but being told he's pretty always freaks him out. Leo starts pulling off his clothes, and Neymar follows suit, then he stuffs the dirty clothes into the big bag he's been taking to the launderette across the street every so often. He'll drag it across the street later in the week for something to do whilst Leo sleeps. It's not exciting, but it is necessary, and the laundry staff is at least nice enough to let Neymar have a cup of coffee whilst he waits.

"You smell like fish, exhaustion." Leo says once they're in the shower. "And... Not sex, but still like someone else." Neymar can feel a sting of something in his gut at Leo's half-slurred words, and he busies himself with washing. It's Phil's scent that's clinging to him, it has to be, and Neymar's not as uncomfortable with that thought as he perhaps should be.

"Cout-Phil came over with dinner." Neymar offers honestly, or at least half-honestly. He's no intention of telling Leo that Phil slept in their bed.

"He's a good friend... You like him, don't you?" Leo's leaning against the shower wall, staring at Neymar through half-lidded eyes, a slight smirk on his lips. "You like him a lot... I... I worry that he'll give you everything I can't, that he'll take you away from me. You're all I have... You're all I can't lose, Neymar." Leo chuckles softly after that, his eyes blearily focusing on Neymar.

"Idiot... You're not gonna lose me. You'd have to throw me away to be rid of me." Neymar laughs at him, and draws Leo into a kiss. The taste of Leo's mouth is worse than when they were on the streets, the flavor of smoky alcohol is far worse than dirty teeth and bad breath, but Neymar endures because there's nothing quite like being kissed by Leo. Leo's kisses are all encompassing, they rob Neymar of his ability to think, his ability to breathe, the ability to do anything but kiss back. "You know I love you... You know without you I'd be dead... You know..." Neymar sighs quietly; Leo's staring at him blankly with nothing registering. The words Neymar wants to say, the heavy, honest words about how much Leo means to him, about how much Leo is all Neymar has to rely on, aren't for now, he'll tell Leo when he's sober.

The next morning Leo wakes briefly with a hangover that has Neymar smiling softly, and slipping out to buy some painkillers. When Neymar returns, Leo's fast asleep, so there's little chance that they'll be having brunch with Phil, and once Neymar manages to enter the doctor's number into Leo's phone's memory, he sends a message to explain just that.

Sorry, Leo's not well. I'll be over later though, if that's okay. Oh! It's Neymar by the way. - sent

You have a phone? – Dr. Phil Coutinho

Neymar scowls at the little machine, and debates how to reply to the message. His contemplation is cut short by Leo letting out a pitiful groan as the phone chirps once more.

How's the head, Leo? You sleep it off? ;) - Cristiano Ronaldo

"Is that Cristiano?" Leo groans, and Neymar nods sharply, quickly hitting send on the message he was writing to the doctor.

It's not my phone, it's Leo's for work, but I didn't want to wake him up. I'll come by about five. - Sent

"Yeah... I was borrowing it to send a message to Phil." Neymar perches carefully on the edge of the bed, and strokes Leo's hair back from his face. "You look terrible." He grins, and Leo manages a weak smile. "You drink too much last night?"

"Cristiano decided that I was too much of a light-weight, challenged me to tequila shots. I'd forgotten how awful that shit is." Leo shudders slightly, and Neymar presses a quick kiss to his temple.

"Here, water and pain pills." Neymar gestures to the table, and Leo's eyes light up.

"You... Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you." Leo takes the pills, and throws them into his mouth, swallowing them down with a big swig of water. "So, what were you talking to the good doctor about?" Leo flops back down against his pillows, and pulls the blankets down on Neymar's side of the bed, patting the space beside him invitingly.

"He had wanted to meet us for brunch, I was advising him that wouldn't be possible." Neymar lies down beside Leo, and snuggles up to his side. "He's going to think you're avoiding him if you don't let him feed you at this rate." Neymar laughs and Leo looks over at him. The phone chirps once more, and Leo's attention is caught by it as he reads the message, laughing carefully at the contents.

"Alright, Neymar. Five sounds good to me, but tell your man that next week I'm bringing him food." Leo reads in a strange almost posh accent, and Neymar presses his face against Leo's shoulder, smothering a laugh.

"I told you." Neymar's voice is muffled, but he's pressing his face against Leo for a reason. He knows it's stupid, but he's convinced he can smell Phil's scent clinging to the fabric of his pillow. He'd been convinced of it all night, and had slept half on top of Leo because of it. It had felt too strange, too wrong to lie in bed with Leo whilst being convinced he could smell Phil. Though as wrong as it'd felt, there'd been a part of Neymar that had enjoyed it. He'd liked the idea that he could smell both his lover, and his friend at the same time, he'd liked the idea of being cradled between them, and he knows that should feel far more wrong than it had.

"Alright, next week, we'll hang out with your doctor friend... You know it's weird like a month ago, you were dying, we were on the streets... We were both trapped, but then this doctor saved you... He... Fuck, Neymar... He saved us both. Without you I'd-"

"I know." Neymar cuts in. If he knows what Leo was going to say, he's no idea, but he does know that it was more than likely going to be something far too sweet, and far too sappy for Neymar to stand this early in the day.

"So, I've got you until five then?" Leo chuckles suddenly, his hands reaching for Neymar. The pain medication has clearly started its work, and Neymar can't say he minds in the least. "I've an idea on how we can spend the time."

 

There's a paranoid part of Neymar that's convinced he smells like sex when he knocks on Phil's door. Why he's paranoid about it is something he's mildly concerned about. He shouldn't care that he potentially smells like he enjoyed an afternoon of fucking with his boyfriend, but he does, and he cares because he doesn't want to be visiting Phil smelling like another man. For Phil, Neymar wants to smell like Neymar and nothing more.

"Hey! C'mon in." Phil's grinning when he opens the door, and Neymar steps into the apartment. Phil wanders off after giving Neymar a quick hug, leaving him to close the front door. "I'm cooking... And not yet burning! Thankfully!" Phil calls, and Neymar shakes his head at him. "So, what happened to Leo?" Phil doesn't sound put out by being stood up by Leo once again, in fact he sounds more amused than anything.

"Hangover." Neymar mutters as he hangs his coat up, and toes off his shoes. Neymar comes into the kitchen, and leans against the counter beside Phil "What were you up to all day then? This is the first day off on your own you've had in ages. Must've been fun." Neymar laughs and the doctor shakes his head slightly.

"I missed your company." The last part of the sentence sounds as though Phil had just tacked it on at the last minute. Neymar fidgets slightly, and glances at the contents of the pot on the stove. "Soup." Phil supplies helpfully.

"I can see that." Neymar snorts dismissively, his eyes darting around the room, trying to find any indication of what kind of soup it is.

"Random vegetable soup." Phil clarifies, and Neymar raises an eyebrow. "I decided to make bread, and well... Soup goes with bread, and vegetable soup is good for you. You're still too thin, though I will admit you look better." Phil doesn't look at Neymar once whilst he talks, and Neymar's grateful for that. He's having a hard time handling the peripheral view of the soft look Phil's giving the soup, if it was turned on him fully, Neymar's sure he'd be a simpering puddle.

"I'm feeling better." Neymar mumbles, and takes a seat at the table. "I've been working on the real Neymar’s diary. You asked about it last night, and there's nothing but poetry so far." Neymar sets the little black book down on the table, and Phil glances over.

"Good poetry?" Phil pulls a pair of bowls from a cupboard near the stove, and starts serving the soup.

"Terrible poetry... The sort of poetry where you rhyme dark with dark." Neymar taps the book, and Phil laughs at him as he carries the soup bowls over.

"Spoons are in the top drawer. You want butter on your bread? I think there's some nice cheese too..." Phil wanders back over to the counter, and Neymar goes and fetches two spoons, but he doesn't bothering answering any of the doctor's questions. He knows that Phil will fetch the butter, and the cheese, he knows that the doctor made the offer as a heads up rather than a real question.

They eat with a light chatter between them. It makes Neymar think about how nervous he'd been when he'd first come to Phil's apartment, when he'd first thought of talking to the doctor and learning about who he used to be. In many ways that nervousness has been borne out, Neymar has good reason to be nervous over finding out who he was, because it seems who he was is a mystery on so many more levels than he'd first thought. Phil was his friend, but he had secrets from him. It seems he had secrets from everyone, and a fondness for writing terrible poetry. Phil seems at once amused, and strangely saddened by the poems Neymar reads him. Whilst he chuckles along with Neymar, there's a strange sadness in his eyes, and Neymar feels awkward about reading them aloud, but it's done, so there's nothing he can do about it. If there's something more to them, Neymar's sure Phil will tell him eventually.

"I... I need to ask you a favor." Neymar breaks the comfortable silence they'd been lulled into whilst sitting on the couch, watching TV, not even discussing Neymar's past, instead they'd been laughing at some comedy shoe. It's strange, but Neymar thinks that for all he's learning about who he was, he's also learning about who he is by visiting Phil. He's learning, or perhaps changing, and he's not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

"Oh?" Phil glances over at him, and Neymar fidgets on the couch. There's a space between them, a space that feels like a gaping chasm to Neymar. He wants to move closer, wants to feel Phil's arm around him, but Neymar stays put for several good, and several bad, reasons.

"I've been offered a job-"

"Ney, you're still healing." An authoritative note laces Phil's tone, and Neymar rolls his eyes at the doctor.

"I know. A job for when I'm better." Neymar makes finger quotes around better, and Phil laughs at him lightly. "A job that requires me to have my social security number." Neymar smiles slightly, and Phil nods absently.

"Should be up in the basement, I'll take a look." He shrugs, and Neymar doesn't fight the urge to all but throw himself at the doctor in a hug. "So, what is this job?" Phil returns the hug without thought, and when Neymar tries to slink back to his side of the couch, Phil tucks him in close, his arm wrapped around Neymar's shoulders.

"Making sandwiches." He should stop snuggling, Neymar knows he should. He loves Leo, but he adores being held, and being held by his friend is nothing for Leo to be concerned with. Neymar needs the reassurance that being pressed against someone he cares about gives him, and whilst for the longest time it was only Leo Neymar wanted to cuddle him, but Phil has somehow, someway managed to be added to the very short list of people Neymar is willing to be held by, so Neymar thinks that Leo wouldn't mind him snuggle with Phil.

"At a Subway?" There's a hint of hope in Phil's voice, and Neymar laughs at him.

"No... A deli... I... Next time I'll take you. You can meet the boss. He's a nice guy..." Neymar trails off. This would be the moment normal people said the deli owner's name, but Neymar doesn't know it. He could describe the man perfectly, but naming him is beyond Neymar's abilities.

"Okay... It'll have to be the week after next though." Phil sighs, and stands, urging Neymar to follow him to the kitchen. "See." He gestures to the calendar pinned to the wall. The next week is marked as being all at work. The following week Phil has a few days off, but next week Neymar's on his own as Phil will be busy.

"You're working all next week?" Neymar mutters, cursing the fact that he'll probably forget the shift pattern when he leaves the apartment. It would be helpful to remember what time Phil's shifts were.

"All week. Doctoring, great money, great sense of personal accomplishment, horrible social life. I knew the risks." Phil laughs.

"What did I study?" Neymar asks suddenly, and Phil glances over at him. "I doubt I studied medicine like you, so what the hell was I studying?"

"You? I'm surprised you've not asked before to be honest. You were studying movies... You... the real Neymar used to want to be director... He... I wonder if I still have them..." Phil trails off, and Neymar looks hopefully at him.

"Still have what?" He wants Phil to say that he's talking about home movies made by the real Neymar; he desperately wants Phil to say that they were good movies made by him, movies he's proud of.

"He made me and bunch of our friends make these dumb movies... He... I'll look for them when I look for your number, okay?" Phil shakes his head as though clearing the fog of nostalgia away.

"Was I good?" Neymar asks softly without thought. Phil had described the movies as dumb, hadn't sounded in the least bit proud of his work, and Neymar's oddly offended by that.

"At directing? Yeah, you’re; sorry, he was good." Phil corrects himself, and Neymar realizes that he hadn't. He'd asked if he was good at directing, not if the real Neymar was. The differentiation between the two keeps feeling thinner and thinner to Neymar, especially around the doctor.

"I'll be excited to see them." Neymar grins at the doctor, and smothers a yawn with his hand.

"You ready to go? C'mon, I'll run you back to the motel." Phil gently pats Neymar's shoulder, and makes a move to get ready to leave.

The drive to the motel was rather like dinner, a light chatter filling the time. In just the few short visits Neymar's had with the doctor, he feels comfortable. With so many people, even years after meeting them, Neymar still doesn't feel comfortable around them, but with Phil feeling uncomfortable doesn't seem to be an option.

"If you need to talk, Ney." Phil pulls a slip of paper from his pocket, and Neymar stares at it.

"What's this? Your schedule?" Neymar stares down at the neatly copied version of Phil's rote, and feels grateful. With it written, and in his hands, Neymar will know when he can call, if he needs to call that is. "I'll try to not bother you."

"You know you don't bother me, don't you? You know that getting you back was the best Christmas present I've ev-"

"Couti." 

"You know what I mean... I thought you were lost... Dead even, but then you show up in my life again, and I..." The doctor takes a deep breath, and turns to Neymar with a smile. "Any time, you call, you come visit, so long as I'm not working I'll be there, and if I am working you wait for me... I'll be there for you, I promise." Neymar nods at him unable to form any response to the solemn words, and Phil looks genuinely relieved by that.

"G'night." Neymar pulls Phil into a hug, then slips from Phil's embrace, and car, quickly. Neymar had intended to go rush to his and Leo's room to escape the earnest heaviness of Phil's words, but instead Neymar hangs about waving goodbye to the doctor. He watches the doctor drive away, and feels strangely alone.

The rest of the week, Leo comes home in an incredibly affectionate mood. He plasters himself to Neymar's back, and peppers kisses over the skin of Neymar's shoulders. He doesn't talk about work, he doesn't ask how Neymar's meeting with Phil went, and he studiously doesn't mention the real Neymar diary. That's something that's been bothering Neymar, but he thinks he understands what Leo's doing. Leo is attempting to let Neymar feel as though he's in charge of at least one part of his life. By not prying into the diary, Leo's letting it be just Neymar's, and if Neymar's honest, he's grateful Leo knows him well enough to know that this is something that Neymar would want. Instead of asking probing questions, Leo listens when Neymar decides to talk about the diary, he pays attention to what Neymar says, and it fills Neymar with almost glee. There are times Neymar's painfully reminded of how perfect for him Leo is, and when he makes a subtle reference to one of the terrible poems Neymar read him is one of those times.

It's a nice week, not as nice as it could be, but nice all the same. A week where Neymar's certain that both of the important relationships in his life flourished. He feels closer to both his friend and his lover, and it keeps Neymar's spirits high as he fights with the more confusing parts of the diary.

Something changes on Sunday though. Neymar can't put his finger on what, but the whole next week Leo seems different. He comes home later, and later, barely speaks when he's there, and worst of all, at least as far as Neymar is concerned, is he's not held Neymar once all week. There've been no casual little moments of affection, no gentle touches, no soft smiles, no caresses, no embraces, no kisses, and Neymar has no idea why. He could talk to Phil about it, but he's certain the doctor would laugh it off. Phil seems convinced that Leo is good for him, though Neymar's certain he's seen something in the way Phil looks at him. He's sure there's a part of the doctor that sees himself as being good for Neymar, but that part is too respectful of Neymar, and too in love with the memory of the real Neymar to make a move. That and the doctor is working all week, not a single free day, so Neymar has no one to turn to. Despite needing to talk about his loneliness and confusion over how Leo's acting, Neymar bumbles through the week, feeling more tired, and more isolated than he has in a long time. Without the prospect of Leo's arms to comfort him, Neymar sees little point in being in the motel room. He spends his time in the library, or in random coffee shops that give out free coffees to the homeless. Neymar isn't entirely sure he counts as being strictly homeless, but he's certainly not homed, so he feels somewhat justified in taking those free coffees.

After almost a full week of being sent to this strange purgatory for reasons Neymar can't even begin to guess at, he foolishly winds up at Phil's apartment, knocking on the door on the off chance the doctor's in.

"Ney?" Phil looks haggard, wearing nothing but a loose pair of pajama pants, and a sleep mask pushed up off his eyes and onto his forehead.

"I'm sorry... I-"

"In." Phil doesn't let Neymar finish; instead, his hand curls around the back of Neymar's neck, pulling him into the apartment. "The remote's on the arm of the couch, there's food in the fridge; you know where the bathroom is." He doesn't move his hand, and Neymar stares at him in shock. He'd expected to be thrown out on his ear, not invited in and basically told to make himself at home. A strange intense expression crosses Phil's eyes, and Neymar nervously licks his lips, drawing the doctor's attention to them. "I'm gonna be asleep till about seven, my shift starts at ten, if you wanna- No, nevermind." The doctor shakes his head, and lets Neymar go. He turns to the little rack of hooks near the front door, and pulls one set of keys free. "These are for you. If you're going out lock the door behind you. The red one is the front door, blue's the basement. G'night." Phil holds the keys out to Neymar, watching him carefully.

"You're not mad?" Neymar's annoyed by how small his voice is, annoyed by how fragile he sounds, but that annoyance melts away at the look on Phil's face. That expression makes Neymar feel small, makes him feel fragile, but it's not a bad feeling, it's far from a bad feeling. "I..."

"You wanna come up for a nap?" Phil's voice is a small and fragile as Neymar's had been. As much as Neymar knows he should refuse, he can't help himself from following along to Phil's bedroom, because it's been a week since he's been held, and the promise of sleeping in Phil's arms was in that timid question, a promise Neymar's certain Phil won't break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a mess...  
> If you are interested check my other fanfics, I know you won't regret reading them.


	16. Leo & Cristiano

I'll let you know when we need your services again. - Cristiano Ronaldo

Secrets aren't things Leo has ever really kept from Neymar. Secrets are the domain of scurriers, and Leo isn't a scurrier, or at least he wasn't a scurrier. He's hovering around the fringes of the scurrying world, picking up their bad habits. Bad habits like secrets, like lying, or at least hiding the truth. He can't tell Neymar that he's not got work tomorrow, he can't Neymar that he's not going to have money coming in for reasons he doesn't know. He's no idea what Cristiano's playing at, but he has sneaking suspicions, sneaking ideas that his boss, former boss maybe, isn't happy that Leo in no uncertain terms turned him down. There's only one solution to this that Leo can see, and that is he has to go and talk to his boss. He has to explain how much he needs this job, he has to explain that he can't not have it, and he has to keep the negotiations, and the unstable future a secret from Neymar.

"What is this?" Leo tosses his cell onto the desk Cristiano's sitting behind, fury making Leo feel twitchy but awareness of the precarious nature of this situation keeping him somewhat calm. Cristiano looks utterly unimpressed with Leo's bristling self-contained ire. All he does is pick up Leo's cell with two fingers, his eyebrow rising as a sneering smirk spreads over his lips.

"It appears to be a cell phone... A cheap cell phone." Cristiano sets the cell back down, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches Leo pace.

"I'll let you know when we need your services again." Leo knows the text by heart, he's read it a thousand times, he's panicked over it since it arrived. "I don't... I..." Leo trails off, staring almost helplessly at Cristiano. "I need this job... I need to ke-"

"For your boyfriend." Cristiano rolls his eyes, and uses one finger to nudge Leo's phone. "He's not much of anything though, is he? Kind of rough around the edges, and really, lets face it, he'll forget all about you soon enough." The sneering smirk spreads over Cristiano's lips again. "He's got himself a doctor now-"

"How the fuck do you know about that?" Leo slams his hands onto the desk, his eyes narrowed; the desire to punch Cristiano in his smugly smirking mouth is almost overwhelming.

"I have my ways." Cristiano shrugs, and taps Leo's phone once more. "A doctor is a little more interesting than a barely educated, homeless bar tender, especially for something like your boyfriend." Leo winces at Cristiano's words. The insults thrown at Leo stung, but they were nothing but the truth, the real insult was Cristiano calling Neymar a thing. Neymar is more than Cristiano could hope to be, he's no right to speak of Neymar in that tone or those terms.

"I..." Leo sighs, and flops into the chair opposite Cristiano. "What do you want? I need to keep this job, I need money coming in."

"Until he leaves you, because we both know that as soon as he's got that doctor wrapped around his grimy little finger, he's going to go frolicking off into the sunset with the good Doctor Coutinho ." Cristiano stands, and wanders around the desk to stand behind Leo, his hands rest heavily on Leo's shoulders. "He's not worth your time, Leo... On the streets I'm sure he was a good fuckbuddy, but you're worth so much more than a forgetful whore-"

"Don't call him that." Leo had wanted it to be shout, had wanted his voice to be full of the venomous rage he can feel bubbling inside of him, but it'd been a soft little whisper, a mere murmur of misery rather than the righteous roar it should have been.

"He was a whore though, wasn't he?" Cristiano laughs softly. "A pretty good one from what I've heard, but a whore all the same. Nothing I'm saying isn't something you've thought yourself. He's going to leave you; it's just a matter of time. He's probably with the doctor right now. They're probably laughing at you and your pathetic attempts to keep him as we speak... I'd... No never mind." Cristiano laughs softly, and squeezes Leo's shoulders.

"You'd?" Leo prompts, trying to keep his mind from drawing the image he'd seen one night, the image of Neymar in the doctor's arms, the image of them hugging, no embracing. Neymar never lets anyone hold him but Leo, yet he was contentedly being held by the doctor in public, his face pressed against the doctor's neck, after Leo had retreated to the room they'd probably kissed. The strange scent of another person clinging to Neymar every so often since that night the doctor had saved Neymar's life has probably always been the scent of Dr. Coutinho . Neymar's more than likely not been out working, he's more than likely been out sucking the doctor off behind Leo's back, but it's okay, because Neymar always comes back to Leo. He can share Neymar, just so long as he's getting most of Neymar, he can live without having all of him, so long as the majority of Neymar is Leo's.

"I'd... Well, let's face it Leo, nothing I could say will sway you. You're in love with your cheating little whore, and even if I were to offer to treat you the way you deserve, you'd never accept my... Advances, shall we say?" Cristiano laughs softly, and leans down, his lips brushing Leo's hair. "There is, as I see it, only one way for me to get you into my bed, my darling, and that way is... Well, it's not what I want, but it really is the only way to get you." Cristiano comes back around, and sits behind his desk once more. "You can keep this little job if, and only if, you sleep with me." Leo laughs, a sharp bark of laughter that almost seems to echo in the room. He has to be joking, there's no way Cristiano can be serious, but the look on his face is deadly serious, the air in the room is heavy with seriousness.

"You want me to have sex with you for this job?" Leo says slowly, realization dawning on him slowly. "You want me to who-"

"I want you in general, but your whore has you, so this is the only way I can show you the depth of my attraction." Cristiano examines his nails with an affected air of disinterest, but Leo can see through the act all too clearly. He's serious about this, he wants Leo to fuck him, or be fucked by him, in order to keep this shitty little job. This shitty little job that keeps a roof over Leo's, and more importantly over Neymar's, head. "Once your amnesiac whore runs off with his doctor, we can drop the pre-tense, but essentially, I want you to have sex with me regularly, and in return I'll let you keep the job here at the club."

"Neymar ain't gonna-"

"We both know he is, Leo. Come on! You, and no offence to you, but you're nothing on a doctor. Do you really think someone like Neymar." Cristiano sneers Neymar's name like it was offensive, like it was a terrible slur to the Spanish language, and Leo winces at the sound of it. "Is going to pass up the opportunity to be kept in the lap of luxury? He's been the streets same as you, if you were in his shoes wouldn't you do the same thing? Wouldn't you be trying to milk dear, sweet Dr. Coutinho for all he was worth?" Leo shakes his head. He can't imagine being in Neymar's shoes, he never has been able to imagine what it must be like for Neymar, for there to be a hole where there should be a past, for there to be nothing but blank white pages where there should be chapter upon chapter of history. "You want him to be happy don't you?" Cristiano smiles softly, and Leo nods.

"All I want is for him to be happy." It's true, so true. All Leo has ever wanted for Neymar is his happiness. If it's not with Leo, if it's with the doctor, then he'll let him go. There's no way Leo will ever stand in the way of Neymar's happiness, no matter where it's found.

"Then do this one little thing for him. You have sex with me, and your precious little Neymar is happy." A broad smile settles over Cristiano's lips, and Leo finds himself staring down at the carpet. He can't find a good argument to counter Cristiano's words. He can't begin to work out how to explain that sleeping with Cristiano won't equate to Neymar being happy. He can't really begin to explain that to himself, so how can he explain it to someone else. Everything Cristiano's said so far has made sense, every doubt Leo's had about Neymar and the doctor's relationship, every doubt he's had about his and Neymar's relationship, Cristiano's covered, he's showed them as problems solved by sleeping with him.

Leo spends his shift in a strange kind of haze, he contemplates calling Neymar a thousand times, but whenever he goes to dial, Cristiano's words come back to him. Neymar would be so much better off with the doctor. He'd have somewhere warm and safe to live, somewhere that's not likely to be lost because of one missed paycheque. He'd be with someone stable, someone who knows him, someone who could help him remember who he was, and someone who could heal him. Those thoughts keep Leo from dialing; they keep him working, and thinking about fucking Cristiano. He's not sure if he's dreading or almost looking forward to it. Cristiano's not unattractive. If it wasn't for Neymar, Leo would probably jump at the chance to have sex with such a good looking guy, but there is Neymar, and there is the love Leo has for him, and there is this horrible mire of lies surrounding the whole thing. It's the sort of mess that would never happen on the streets, the sort of mess only scurriers would get themselves into, and Leo's furious with himself for being in this position, but there's nothing he can do about it.

Cristiano smiles when Leo shuffles into the back room, a big indulgent feline smile. The sort of smile that makes Leo feels weirdly unwell.

"So..." Leo's fingers go to the shirt of his uniform, starting to unbutton it.

"Leo, do you think I'm some kind of animal?" Cristiano laughs, and tosses Leo an expensive looking bag. "Get changed, we're going to eat, then I'll take you home." Cristiano's smile bleeds into a leer, and Leo glances into the bag. Inside is an expensive looking set of clothes, and he swallows thickly. It seems Cristiano wants to dress him up and show him off before fucking him.

"I'll just go-"

"Here. Get changed for me here." Cristiano steeples his fingers under his chin, and smirks. Leo changes efficiently, despite knowing Cristiano was probably hoping for a strip tease of sorts. He's too nervous for seduction, too nervous for anything but this to be over with. Cristiano laughs once Leo's dressed, and takes the bag, now with Leo's uniform in it, from him. "Work on that, okay?" Leo nods dumbly, and follows along behind him. "So, I wasn't too sure where would be open this late, so I'm afraid that when I said we're going to eat, I just meant to Sergio's place." Cristiano smiles, and takes Leo's hand. "I want you to do a good job of convincing him we're happy together. He doesn't know about our little arrangement, and well, I don't think he needs to, does he?" Leo shakes his head, and Cristiano squeezes his hand firmly. "Does he?"

"No, Cristiano, this is between you and me." This is for Neymar, Leo adds silently to himself. The lies he's telling are racking up, and he can feel something dark solidifying in the pit of his stomach. This isn't what he wanted for his life off the streets. He'd wanted to find somewhere to keep Neymar safe; he'd wanted to find a job to earn enough money to keep Neymar safe, he'd wanted to keep Neymar. He'd never wanted to be someone's whore off the streets, it was bad enough on them, but off them Leo had wanted to be Neymar's and Neymar's alone.

Dinner with Sergio is as short as it is easy. It was scarily easy to fall into the role of being Cristiano's lover, easy to laugh off the brief mention of Neymar Sergio made, easy to say that Neymar had decided to move on, easy to lie about Neymar and the doctor being together. Saying it hadn't hurt as much as Leo had expected it to, it'd felt more like simply stating a fact than he'd want it to. It's easy to picture Neymar curled up in the doctor's arms, easy to see them happy together, easy and Leo almost thinks inevitable. Cristiano was right, if their roles were reversed Leo would jump at the security dating a doctor would offer, he'd cling for all he was worth to such a valuable savior. At least that's what Leo keeps telling himself, even as he follows Cristiano up the steps to his home, Leo keeps telling himself that Neymar will be better off with the doctor, and Leo only needs to do this for as long as it takes Neymar to leave him. Neymar won't stay; he can't stay, not with Leo cheating on him, not with Leo having to lie to him, not with Leo betraying him like this.

Cristiano doesn't wait long before pouncing on Leo, kissing him forcefully, pulling at Leo's hair, pushing him back against the solid wood door. His hands are big, far bigger than Neymar's and he touches Leo in all the wrong places, clumsily fumbling where Neymar moves with confidence. Leo reacts as though it pleases him though, he acts as though Cristiano's caress is enjoyable, arousing even, arching into the hand that gropes roughly down his back.

"C'mon, upstairs." Cristiano rumbles in his ear, and Leo doesn't bother answering. He thinks that Cristiano more than likely doesn't care if he answers or not, so long as he follows.

The bedroom is vast, the bed positioned centrally, so large it overpowers the entire room. Leo fidgets slightly, and Cristiano presses himself to Leo's back. "Take these off more interestingly than you put them on." Leo nods dumbly as he watches Cristiano strip off his clothes quickly and throw himself onto the bed. The sound of a lube bottle opening might only be a soft little pop of sound in normal circumstances, but in that room it's impossibly loud. Strip teases aren't something Leo's well versed in and in all honesty he feels like a liar gyrating for Cristiano's entertainment, but he looks entertained. His dark eyes are riveted to Leo's movements, hungrily running over the skin Leo's slowly revealing. "C'mere." Cristiano beckons him closer once Leo's naked, and draws him into a kiss. There's a part of Leo that's enjoying it, but there's always that part of him that loses itself to the feel of another person. That little part is all but drowned out by the shrieking of the rest of his mind. The parts of him that is distraught that Leo is allowing someone who isn't Neymar to touch him, to kiss him, all without the exchange of money. There's an exchange going on here, but it's not of money, it's of security. Leo makes the sacrifice of his body, and Neymar can remain safe and secure, at least until he leaves. Cristiano's reasoning still resonates in Leo's mind. Cristiano's words struck deep chords in him, deep well buried chords that had been slowly being revealed over the time Neymar's ben visiting with the doctor, and are now resonating to the tune of Cristiano's words.

"Cristiano, I-"

"Shh." Cristiano doesn't let Leo talk; instead he presses Leo down to the bed and starts prepping his ass. It's slow and teasing, and under the right circumstances Leo would be enjoying this, but it’s not the right circumstances, it's so far from them that it's all Leo can do to keep from shuddering. "Touch yourself; think of your cheating whore... Whatever you need to do to enjoy this, do it." Cristiano mutters as he nips at Leo's neck, and slowly penetrates him. "I want you to come. In time you'll come from just me, but if you need to use your imagination right now, that's okay." Cristiano presses a kiss to Leo's temple, and Leo keeps his eyes closed. In his mind he's not thinking of Neymar, he can't dirty Neymar with this act. In his mind he's thinking of nothing in particular. He's trying to summon up something arousing, something to get him off. Thankfully, as Cristiano speeds up, the simulation to Leo's prostate increases. His cock fills, and his own orgasm isn't as impossibly difficult to find as he'd expected. He manages to come, and Cristiano seems content enough.

Once the deed is done, Leo can't stick around. Cristiano has already casually dismissed him, or at least that's what Leo takes rolling over and saying goodbye meant. He can't imagine it was an offer to stay the night, not that he wants to though. He wants to go back to the dingy little motel room, and curl around Neymar's sleeping body. He wants to hold Neymar close, and lose himself in the feeling of Neymar in his arms.

When he arrives at the motel, Neymar's asleep, the blankets pulled up to his nose, curled up on his side, the space behind him vast and inviting, but Leo can't step any nearer to him. The thought of lying in bed with Neymar, of being so close to him whilst he can still feel the ghost of Cristiano over him, inside of him makes him feel sick, and Leo retreats to the shower. As he staggers more than anything out of the bathroom, Neymar's eyes fix him in place.

"Hey Neymar... I didn't mean to wake you." Leo presses his back against the wall. He feels exposed without a shirt, dressed as he is in only some threadbare boxers.

"You're back late." Neymar smiles softly, and throws the covers off from Leo's side of the bed. "C'mon, come to bed, and you can tell me all about your exciting adventures at work tomorrow." Neymar yawns and flops back down. Leo stays where he is, and considers how long it'll take Neymar to fall back asleep, and how likely it is that he'll be able to sleep in the chair. He can't sleep next to Neymar; he can't sully Neymar with this thing with Cristiano. Leo had once told himself that he wanted to be a hero for Neymar, and in some ways that's what this is, though in that moment he doesn't feel all that heroic.

The whole week is a repeat of the same, and the longer it goes on, the more Leo feels empty. It's as though the lies are kicking out all of who Leo is, and leaving nothing but this strange emptiness inside of him. He burns to hold Neymar, but he can't, so he doesn't. He can see it hurts Neymar, can see it in a million tiny and huge ways, but there's nothing to be done. Leo has to do this, and Neymar will never know the hows, or the whys of it, but it'll be okay, because Neymar will go to the doctor. In the end Neymar will be safe, and that is all that matters.

The motel room is empty when Leo gets back, and there's a part of him that's not surprise. It's been a week since this deal with Cristiano started. A week of fucking Cristiano, and tomorrow he has a day off, but Neymar's not there. A week of ignoring him, a week of coming back late, and sneaking out early, a week of coming home, and scrubbing himself in the shower, of sleeping on the chair because he can't bear to lay by Neymar whilst knowing he's been fucked by another man. A week where Leo's ached for Neymar, to hold him, to kiss him, to touch him even, but he can't. Every time Leo thinks of laying a hand on Neymar, he thinks of Cristiano moving inside of him, of Cristiano's hands in his hair, of Cristiano's tongue in his mouth, and he feels off. Not sick, like Leo wants to feel, but not himself. He feels sullied, dirty in a way that sleeping with a client never made him feel. He doesn't hate sleeping with Cristiano, he mostly hates that he's sleeping with him under these circumstances. He hates lies, hates how much like a scurrier he feels, and hates how much he's pushed Neymar away in just one short week. He drags himself to the shower, and tries very hard to not think about where Neymar might be, tires very hard to not picture how he must be curled up safe and warm with his doctor. For all he hates the idea, Leo can't shake the inevitability of Neymar leaving him, because it feels inevitable at this stage.

Once out of the shower, Leo flops onto the bed, his eyes drifting closed when the cell phone chirps. He imagines it'll be Cristiano, he hopes it'll be Neymar, he does not expect who it actually is.

Are you in your motel room, Mr. Messi? I would like to talk to you. - Dr. Philippe Coutinho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry


	17. Sergio Ramos

There should have been a moment when Neymar was lying pressed against Phil's side where he felt wrong, or at least uncomfortable, but he didn't. He'd fallen fast asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow, the warmth of another person beside him had lulled him to sleep so quickly Neymar hadn't even had time to dwell on the fact that person wasn't Leo.

"Hey, you're gonna have to wake up, Ney." Phil's voice drifts through the dreams Neymar was having, soft quiet dreams he can't remember once he's blinking sleep from his eyes.

"Time to get up?" Neymar mutters as he lets go of Phil's arm. At some stage during their nap, Neymar had curled himself around Phil. There's a part of him that's cripplingly embarrassed about that, but there's another part that's caught by how normal it'd felt.

"Well, I should get up soon..." Phil doesn't make a move to get out of bed, and Neymar without thinking snuggles closer to him once more.

"I remember this." Neymar says suddenly, and Phil glances over at him, shock on his face.

"What?" He almost breathes the question, and Neymar laughs, his laughter growing slightly hysterical as he realizes just how true that statement was. He does remember this. He remembers lying in a bed beside Phil, remembers the bed being smaller, the comforter thinner, the mattress lumpier, the room smelling slightly of dirty laundry and ramen noodles.

"I remember lying beside you in bed... I think it must be from college... I remember something." Neymar murmurs once his laughter has subsided. "I can't believe I remember something." He can feel a grin on his face, and Phil's staring at him.

"Tell me, what exactly do you remember, Ney?" He's carefully not looking at Neymar, and a sharp spike of annoyance pricks Neymar in that moment. He wants Phil to look at him; he wants his attention for this important moment. Neymar has never remembered anything from before the accident. This is huge, and he wants it to be witnessed properly. He reaches over, and turns Phil's face to him.

"I remember a bed, a narrow, lumpy mattressed bed. I remember the smell of laundry that needs washing, and ramen... Beef I think. I remember... I remember you beside me. I remember you wore some cheap cologne, or spray... Axe maybe. I remember talking about you leaving to go to work in some faraway hospital, I remember being furious, but saying I was happy for you. You didn't believe me though. You..." Neymar closes his eyes, trying to drag as much of the memory up as he can. "Your hand was on my cheek, and you said... I don't remember what... It was quiet, sad. I remember that. You sounded so sad, Couti, like saying whatever it was you said broke your heart, and I was so angry, but I didn't do anything, I just lay there... There were holes in the ceiling... Little holes." Neymar rubs his eyes with his knuckles, and keeps trudging through the empty spaces of his memory, trying to piece together more of that moment. "Darts! The holes were from darts, I'd... No, not me, someone else, I don't know who, would throw them up at the ceiling, and sometimes they'd fall out, and once one got stuck in someone's head... Someone one tall... Blond maybe... I don't-"

"Doesn't matter. The bed, us... What else do you remember?" Phil cuts in, and Neymar opens his eyes, looking over at him, and is caught by the intense expression on Phil's face.

"I love you." Neymar whispers and Phil closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You said... I said that... We said it, but you left me... But that's not the last thing I remember..." Neymar moves closer, his nose brushing Phil's. "I remember what happened before you left me that night, Couti." Neymar leans in to kiss him, but Phil's hands grasp his shoulders, pushing him away gently.

"No." Phil gets out of the bed, and Neymar forces himself to sit up. He can feel an old fury in the pit of his stomach, the memory of something painfully similar happening years ago, but that time he'd gotten his kiss.

"Why?" He thinks there should be more of an edge to his voice, but it's soft, a plaintive whisper instead of the roar he'd have liked it to be.

"You..." Phil rubs a hand over his face, and levels Neymar with a calm gaze. "You're not the real Neymar. Not matter how much I want you to be, you're not my Ney... You have his face, you have something of him, but you're not, and that's okay. It's okay. Fuck, it'll be okay." Phil leaves the bedroom, and Neymar stays where he is. He should go. He's ruined this too. Leo's pushed him away, and now he's pushed Phil away too.

He drags himself downstairs, almost colliding with Phil who's standing at the bottom of them. He doesn't say anything; instead he stares at Neymar something wounded in his expression. Neymar stares back. He feels odd in a way he can't explain, and he's incredibly grateful when Phil wraps him up in an embrace.

"You're Leo's, not mine... I left you. I let you go. I had to, Ney... It... Fuck. Fuck." Phil hiss softly into Neymar's ear, his arms holding him tightly. "Too... I've never known, but it was always too something." He finishes, and Neymar doesn't know what to do other than wrap his arms around Phil and hold him just as tightly.

"I was angry... I was scared, hurt... I don't think you leaving me was all of it, but I know it was part of it. I don't remember anything but the bed, but you kissing me... I-"

"Neymar." Phil presses his face against Neymar's neck, and a warmth trickles through him, old familiar warmth.

"You used to hug me a lot, and it hurt you, but you did it for me cause I wanted it, needed it, didn't you?" Neymar thinks he sounds a shade too smug, and Phil laughs softly.

"You remember that, or did you just work it out?" There's a wry edge to Phil's voice, and Neymar chuckles slightly, squeezing Phil tighter. "I did... I've always been a masochist for you." He laughs, and lets Neymar go. "I'm making breakfast. You're welcome to stay for as long as you need, Ney." Neymar's a little surprised by Phil using the nickname for him. He'd expected to never hear it again, it clearly hurts Phil call him that, it hurts Phil for Neymar to call him Couti, but Neymar thinks stopping that will be difficult.

"Phil-"

"Couti, Ney... Call me Couti." Phil takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly, a smile spreading over his lips, a smile that makes Neymar's stomach turn with something unfeasibly light. "It's what you've always called me, isn't it?"

It surprises Neymar how little tension there is over breakfast, and its aftermath. He volunteered to wash the dishes, which had turned out to be a little more complicated than he'd expected, but he'd eventually worked out where to put the cleaned dishes once they were dry. Phil had left for work, and Neymar had spent the rest of the day watching TV. He'd gone to bed late on the off chance he'd be able to stay awake until Phil got back, but he'd called it quits when it turned four, and there was no sign of the doctor. He'd not been sure if he should take liberties and sleep in Phil's bed again, but the idea of sleeping alone hadn't appealed to Neymar, so he'd slinked off to Phil's bed, hoping he wouldn't mind too much.

When Neymar wakes up the next morning, he's once more curled around Phil's arm, and there's a lazy part of him that wants to stay where he is, but he thinks he should go back to the motel room. He should go and see Leo at least. He might be able to get some answers out of him as to why he's been so distant this last week. Before last week they'd been as close as ever, and Neymar really understand what's happened to drive a wedge between them.

"You look like you're thinking very hard about something unpleasant." Phil comments mildly, and Neymar nods.

"Leo... When I showed up the other day, it was because he's barely spoken to me for a week. No kisses, no cuddles, no touching, nothing." Neymar sighs, and Phil frowns.

"I was so late back because I went to see him." It's not a confession Neymar had been expecting. "I wanted to know why you were with me when you should be with him."

"What did he say?" Neymar stares at Phil, willing the information he has to be imparted to him quickly. Phil sighs heavily.

"He said not much of anything. He..." Phil lets Neymar go, and sits up. "He thinks you're going to leave him. He... I don't know him well, Ney, so I couldn't get a good read of him. He seemed... Fidgety like he wanted to be somewhere else, or with someone else, and that someone else is undoubtedly you." Phil smiles at Neymar, and he ducks his head.

"Yeah." Neymar can't keep the smile from his face, and he feels guilty about it for reasons he doesn't want to look too closely at. "I'm gonna head to the motel." Neymar slips out of bed, and starts fixing the comforter, tucking it up to Phil's chin. "I'll give you a call before I come visit again." Before Phil can answer Neymar presses a quick kiss to his forehead, and leaves the bedroom, then the apartment as quickly as he can.

He's nearly back to the motel when a voice calls out to him.

"Neymar!" He turns and stares at the man running up to him. The other one of Leo's bosses, and Neymar isn't sure why he's there, or what he could want. "Hey!" The man grins, and takes Neymar's hand, shaking it without Neymar's consent or involvement. "It's good to see you again. Why don't you let me get you breakfast?"

"I was just-"

"C'mon, I know this really nice place not far from here, and I'll pay." The man grins, and doesn't let go of Neymar' hand, instead he starts walking, tugging Neymar along with him.

The little restaurant they arrive at isn't far, and Neymar knows it's nice because it's one of the few that keep drinks on tab for homeless people. He's been here numerous times over the last week. Leo's other boss takes a seat, and grins up at Neymar.

"It's Sergio." He laughs, and Neymar nods awkwardly. He's hoping he can remember the name for the duration of this little breakfast. "I'm glad you came with me, Neymar." Sergio smiles broadly, and Neymar nods slightly at him, thinking that he hadn't had much choice in coming, Sergio had almost literally dragged him there. The first time he'd met Sergio there'd an unnerved feeling in the pit of Neymar's stomach. It's not that he doesn't like Sergio; it's more that he doesn't trust him, and he can't see a way of that changing. It's not like with Cristiano, where Neymar knew from the first moment that he didn't like the man, with Sergio it's different. It's not dislike, it's more like a creeping unease, like there's something behind the vague pleasantries, something bitter, something that riles Neymar up.

"Yeah..." Neymar takes a seat, and fidgets with the flower in the vase on the tabletop. "So, what-"

"Order something, anything, my treat." Sergio taps the menu, and Neymar almost refuses, but it seems like that would be rude. He's not mastered social cues, but he knows that there are some things you have to do even if you don't want to, and he thinks that having a coffee with Sergio might be one of them. When the waitress comes over, Neymar orders the cheapest breakfast on the menu, and a ridiculous coffee he's always wanted to try. Sergio seems amused at Neymar's decisions; his own order is something far more sophisticated of that Neymar has no doubts.

"Thank you for this, but I don't-"

"I wanted to talk to you, Neymar." Sergio fidgets, and looks out of the window. "How are things with you and Leo?" Neymar can feel the blood drain from his face.

"Alright." He mutters, and busies himself with eating the food the waitress just placed on the table.

"Really? Cause he's been... I dunno, maybe it's nothing, but he's seemed distracted at work this last week, and I thought maybe you'd know something... I thought maybe you'd gotten more sick, or something." Sergio smiles awkwardly, and Neymar shakes his head.

"I... I've been okay." He sighs, and supposes that there's no real harm in telling Sergio that Leo's been distant at home too. "But Leo... He's not been himself lately." Neymar mutters and Sergio makes a soft triumphant noise.

"I knew it." He smirks, and Neymar stares at him strangely. "Eat up, Neymar." Sergio smirks, and starts playing with his phone. Neymar eats quickly, wanting to be away from Sergio, wanting to find Leo and talk to him, to ask him what's going on, because there is something going on, this strange encounter has confirmed that if nothing else.

"Thank you for breakfast." Neymar stands to leave. The entire time they'd been eating Sergio hadn't acknowledged him, and Neymar has the awful feeling he's done something incredibly stupid in not refusing this breakfast.

"When you get back to your roach box, check Leo's phone, read his messages. You can read, right?" Sergio doesn't look up, and Neymar feels a sharp stab of annoyance at the insult, but he holds his tongue. He leaves the little restaurant, with an acidic taste in his mouth, and humiliation burning in his gut. He's been played somehow, and he doesn't know how or why. He wants to, and he thinks the only person who can help him is Leo.

You were so good last night, babe. Don't tire yourself out with your whore. - Cristiano Ronaldo

I can't wait to fuck you again, darling. - Cristiano Ronaldo

Fuck... I can't get you out of my head. Last night was incredible. Your ass should win prizes. - Cristiano Ronaldo

You okay, Leo? You seemed down earlier. Go fuck your whore between morning and night shift. If the whore doesn't make it better, I will. ;) - Cristiano Ronaldo.

The messages are dated the first time Leo came back incredibly late, left incredibly early, and barely looked at Neymar, never mind touch him. It hurts. The other messages are more of the same, Leo it seems doesn't text much in reply, or deletes his responses, but there are dozens of messages from Cristiano, explicit messages, sweet messages, messages intended to solely put Neymar down, messages that leave him feeling sick, and wanting to throw the phone against the wall. Leo's cheating on him. He should have expected it really, but it's still a surprise, still a shock. Leo had once said that Neymar was all he couldn't lose, Neymar had responded with the only way Leo would be rid of him was to give him away. Maybe that's why Leo's never seemed all that interested in what Neymar's been learning from Phil. Maybe his disinterest had been Leo's way of discarding Neymar. Maybe he's been wanting rid of Neymar for longer. Maybe the reason the first doctor at the clinic had never diagnosed his MRSA infection was because Leo had told him not to. Maybe he'd been hoping for Neymar to die out on the streets.

"Baby?" Leo's voice breaks through Neymar's thoughts, startling him, leaving him frozen like a rabbit in headlights. "You're home." Leo steps forward, a look on his face that Neymar doesn't want to recognize, but he does. It's the look Leo always gives him, the look that says Neymar's the center of his world. In that moment Neymar wants to forget the texts, and collapse into Leo's arms. He's missed Leo, has missed the familiar safety of his embrace, but there's something on Leo's neck. A deep, dark, mottled mark. A hickey. Neymar tosses the phone onto the bed, and rubs his eyes, hoping the mark was a trick of the light. Leo's closer now, his hands almost on Neymar, but the mark is clearer. Neymar steps back, and around, and out. He can't stay in the motel room. Leo has given him away, thrown him away really, and so Neymar should go.

 

"Ney?" Phil looks confused, but he does usher Neymar into the apartment. "It's three a.m. Wh-"

"Can I stay?" Neymar mutters, rubbing at his arms furiously. He's cold. He shouldn't have been out walking all day. He should have confronted Leo with what he found out, but he couldn't. When he'd faced Leo all he could do was stare, wondering why he thought he could have Leo, and Phil, and a life where he wasn't on the streets. He should have known better. He should have just waved Sergio's words aside. He shouldn't have looked at the cell phone, and found evidence of Leo's infidelity. He shouldn't have expected Leo's fidelity in the first place. He should have known that he wasn't worth staying faithful to. He should have known Leo would leave him as soon as someone who's not a mess showed some interest. He should have known that alone is how he's supposed to be.

"Of course... Ney, you don't need to ask that. C'mon... You look half-frozen. Go shower, get warmed up, and I make you some chocolate." Only alone might not be that way he's supposed to be. It might be that in this apartment is where he should be. It might be that with Phil gently helping him is where he belongs.

"Couti." Neymar murmurs as he steps into the apartment, and closes the door behind him. "You're still wearing your coat." Phil stops, and huffs a quiet laugh.

"I just got back from a shift... It's why I look like shit." He grins over at Neymar, his fingers twitching slightly, and he stoops to untie his shoes to give himself something to do with them. "I should take your coat too, huh?" The doctor seems overly focused on shoe removal, and Neymar toes his own off quickly, then hangs his coat up by Phil's recently removed own.

"You take the shower first." Neymar offers his hand to Phil, and there's a brief moment of hesitation on the doctor's part before he takes it, squeezing lightly before he lets go.

"You're a guest; my mother would be beside herself if I didn't look after you... I'd be beside myself if I didn't look after you." Phil's hand very briefly, very lightly, brushes over Neymar's cheek, and he turns away from Neymar, starting up the stairs. "C'mon! I'll look you out some pjs."

Showering in the apartment is less strange this time, but that might be because Neymar had managed to persuade Phil to stay in the bathroom with him. The doctor opted to brush his teeth, then ramble about his shift. Neymar wasn't really paying attention to what was being said; rather he was listening to the sound of Phil's voice mixing with the sound of the shower. It's strange how comforting hearing another person is, strange how comforting just knowing there's someone on the other side of the thin sheet of plastic, someone who cares, someone who wants to stay, someone who's Phil. Neymar shakes his head, chasing the rambling thoughts from his brain, and focusing on what Phil's saying.

"Then we removed the dinosaur, and gave her some pills for the pain... Seriously, you'd not believe the stuff we find up people's assholes." Phil laughs, and Neymar pokes his head out from behind the curtain.

"You're shitting me?" He's entirely sure Phil had been making that up to test if Neymar was listening or not.

"I shit you not. Today I pulled a toy dinosaur from a woman's butt." Phil looks entirely solemn, and Neymar still isn't sure if he's being lied to. "You don't believe me; I got sent a photo of her x-ray." He grins, and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. "Here, look." The photo on the screen does appear to confirm Phil's story, and Neymar stares at for a few seconds before dissolving into laughter. "I should delete this... It violates all kinds of privacy laws." Phil mutters the grin still on his face.

"Yeah... But... It's fucking hilarious. How'd it even get up there in the first place?" Neymar slips back behind the curtain to finish washing, rinsing the last of the bubbles from his skin.

"She claimed she fell and it just slipped up there. Total bullshit, but you can't really tell people that you don't care what they do for kicks, but sticking toy dinosaurs up your ass is a bad idea no matter what." Phil's voice is further away, and Neymar supposes he's at the door. "There's a towel for you on the toilet and something for you to wear there too... I've no idea if the pants'll fit you in the waist. You're still too skinny, Ney." The door closes behind him, and Neymar shuts off the shower, then proceeds to get dried and dressed.

"Bathroom's free." He calls out, but only the soft sounds of a shower running in another room offers him a reply. Neymar shakes his head, and feels slightly foolish; he shouldn't be surprised that this apartment has more than one bathroom. He wanders down to the living room, and glances at the shoebox on the table. There are still several photos he's not looked at yet, but he doesn't think he can face them. He's not in the mood to try and learn about the past, not when the present is so painful. Besides, his past has been something he's been neglecting as of late, tomorrow he'll have to try harder to work out who he was. If nothing else, the mystery of the real Neymar will distract him from the misery of being Neymar.

"Hey." Phil shaking his shoulder wakes Neymar from the catnap he was having on the sofa, leaving him blinking owlishly at the doctor. "C'mon, I can show you to the spare room, or-."

"Couti... Can I-"

"C'mon." Phil doesn't let him finish. For a moment Neymar's certain that Phil was going to deny him sleeping in his bed again. The offer of a spare empty room, or sleeping in Phil's bed, for a moment Neymar thought Phil would have preferred to sleep alone, but he interrupted Neymar so quickly, and leads him to the bedroom, so maybe he'd hoped Neymar would choose to sleep with him again all along. "Pick a side." He waves at the bed, and Neymar turns to him, gratitude plain on his face. There's no way Neymar can face being alone tonight, no way he'll manage without someone by him, it's either sleeping here with Phil, or trying to find a client, and Neymar can't face the thought of sex. He wants to be safe, he wants to be warm, he wants to be held.

They settle into bed, Neymar taking the left as he usually did when he slept with Leo. Not that it matters he did with Leo anymore, anything with Leo doesn't matter anymore. Leo made his decision, and he decided that Cristiano with his luscious locks, ripped body, and own business were a better choice than Neymar. Scruffy, skinny, struggling Neymar. Neymar who was with him on the streets. Neymar who Leo claimed to love. Neymar who Leo held close whether they ate or starved. Neymar who Leo saved from death. Neymar who loved Leo completely, but still wasn't good enough for him. Neymar who he threw away.

"Shh..." Neymar hadn't realized he'd started crying until Phil's arms wrap around him, holding him tightly. "Whatever it is, it'll be okay."

"Someone else." Neymar manages to gasp out between gut-wrenching sobs. "He's cheating."

"Leo?" Phil sounds bewildered, and Neymar buries his face against Phil's chest. He can feel his tears soaking Phil's shirt, but there's nothing much he can do about it. The tears won't stop, and Phil seems perfectly content to hold him tightly whilst he cries.

It feels like hours later, lifetimes later, but eventually Neymar stops crying, instead he lies still in Phil's arms, feeling the gentle caresses down his back.

"It'll be okay, won't it?" Neymar whispers and Phil chuckles softly. Neymar wants to, but can't bring himself to bristle at that laugh. It's a stupid hope that this mess will be alright. Leo's fucking his boss, his tall, handsome, charming boss. Neymar was never good enough for him, and now Leo's realized that. It'll be okay for Leo and Cristiano, they'll ride off into the sunset together, they'll be happy together, but Neymar will be alone. The one thing he fears the most will happen once more, he'll be abandoned again. One of Phil's hands comes up to cant Neymar's face up so Phil can meet his eyes.

"It'll be how it's going to be. I don't know if it'll be okay or not, but I do know that you'll be okay. You're strong, Ney... You'll be okay." There's a conviction in Phil's voice that Neymar wishes he felt, a strength that he wishes he could feel.

"I... Don't lemme go." Neymar buries his face against Phil's shoulder, and a quietly murmured never is the last thing Neymar hears before he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't write anything for two months because I have very important exams and I wanna fully concentrate on them, I don't know if I will be enthusiastic enough to continue writing because I'm a little disappointed by feedbacks but I think I've written enough fanfics to keep you entertained.
> 
> Thank you for your support so far.


	18. Leo

The knock at the door is a surprise. There's a hopeful part of Leo that wants it to be Neymar, that the reason Neymar's not in the room is because he's forgotten his key, but there's a more realistic part of him that knows it's the doctor. He can't help but wonder what Dr. Coutinho wants to talk about. It has to be a simple conversation to let Leo know that Neymar's gone. The idea that Neymar won't come and tell Leo that himself hurts, but Leo would understand if that's how Neymar has decided to play this. The last week he's been distant with Neymar, but he couldn't bring himself to close that distance. He's tainted, coated in the lies of being a scurrier. Neymar deserves better, and it seems he's realized it. It's better for the doctor to come and explain, better for Leo's last memory of Neymar to be him fast asleep, curled up safe and warm, a far better image than whatever their last meeting might entail.

"Mr. Messi? Leo?" The doctor knocks again, and Leo sighs, wearily getting up from the bed to open the door.

"What?" The doctor smiles in the face of Leo's bland irritation, a broad smile that makes Leo want to punch him.

"Can I come in?" He asks softly, and Leo steps aside. It's better that his heart is broken behind closed doors.

"What?" Leo asks again. He can't seem to form anything even close to a real sentence. He can't bring himself to be polite to the doctor.

"You know, that's kind of why I'm here." The doctor takes a seat in the one chair, and sets a takeaway bag down on the table. "I brought you food. I had the feeling you'd not have eaten, and looking at you, I'd say it's for a few days... Coffee too." The doctor tosses Leo a wrapped sub. "Here." He holds out a paper cup of coffee that Leo accepts warily. He perches on the bed, and watches the doctor start eating.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Leo snaps once he's half-way finished with the food. It's a good roll; he's at once annoyed, and grateful for it. If the doctor is here to tell him Neymar's gone, he'd rather be told quickly. He can't take this anticipation of the inevitable.

"What's going on?" The doctor stretches his legs out, and rubs at one of his eyes with his knuckle. "Ney isn't here, and we both know that he belongs with you." There's nothing but plain honesty on the doctor's face, and Leo distracts himself with eating some more.

"I don't know that." Leo sighs, once he's eaten his sandwich. "I've... I don't know that he belongs to or with anyone, himself included... He's not anyone, not a real anyone at least, and you need to be to belong. He's all blank pages, and mysteries." Leo's sure that came out wrong but the doctor makes a thoughtfully agreeing noise.

"Blank pages and mysteries are the way he's always been." The doctor smiles fondly, and he tosses his empty sandwich wrapper in the trash.

"Even the real Neymar?" Leo mutters, and the doctor laughs with a nod.

"Always." The fond look comes back into his eyes, and Leo takes a sip of his coffee to distract himself from asking questions. He's always wanted to know what Neymar was learning about himself, but it seemed important to let Neymar have his past, to only get what Neymar chose to share, rather than force him into giving the little he has back away again. "I was thinking the other day about how I've no idea how he paid for college... I've no idea where he'd go sometimes... He'd be gone for days, and I never knew where."

"Did he come back okay?" Leo stares at the doctor, something odd settling in the pit of his stomach. Vanishing for days to pay for college, money for Neymar's time, or as Leo has a sneaking suspicion money for his body.

"Yeah... He came back fine... You think he was prostituting himself too?" The doctor seems to be trying to look at anywhere but Leo, so the slight nod Leo gave in response to the question was worthless.

"It's likely..." Leo mutters, and the doctor nods.

"Yeah... I always thought so." He takes another drink of his coffee, and Leo finds himself studying the doctor more closely. He looks tired, worn out, and worn down. He should be at home asleep, not here talking to Leo.

"What happened between you?" The doctor's head snaps up at Leo's question, something bitterly hurt in his expression.

"It doesn't matter." He snaps, and Leo scowls at him.

"You have a history, one Neymar's learning more and more of every time he sees you. It's inevitable tha-"

"He's yours, you know that right?" The doctor says softly, and Leo shakes his head. An odd look crosses the doctor's face. "What? What is it you've done... No... Still doing..." The doctor narrows his eyes slightly, and Leo baulks at him. He wonders if he's marked from what he's done with Cristiano. He pats at his neck self-consciously, Cristiano never marks him, never leaves signs he's been there, and for that Leo's grateful.

"He's with you, isn't he?" Leo mutters, and the doctor sighs. "He's not here, and he's not out there... Please tell me he's not out there."

"I left him in my apartment earlier. He should still be there... Come back with me? Come and see him... Ney.. Neymar would be happy to see you." Leo closes his eyes at the doctor's words, at the pet-name for Neymar he used.

"I'm right here. If he wants to see me, he can come here." Leo rubs his eyes, and finishes the last of his coffee.

"You miss him... He misses you. I can take him home now." The doctor stands, and Leo bounces to his feet.

"You're a doctor. You knew him before... You can give him more; you can keep him safe... I damn near let him die-"

"I let him go." The doctor's eyes are clamped closed; his arms wrapped around himself as though cold. "I let him go... I let him go a long time ago."

"He's going to leave me." Leo grasps the doctor's shoulders, shaking him lightly. "He's going to leave me and you're going to keep him safe. You have to."

"He's yours, Leo. Neymar is yours... He loves you." Doctor sounds so very firm, and Leo looks away. "He'll come home tomorrow, I promise." With that the doctor picks Leo's hands from his shoulders, and leaves. The cell phone chirps, and Leo's grateful there's no one there to see his wince.

I miss you, babe. - Cristiano Ronaldo

Wanna grab breakfast tomorrow? - Cristiano Ronaldo

Sure. - sent

Cristiano sends back a time, and location that Leo notes, but doesn't care about. He just wants to sleep. The bed smells of Neymar. The bed holds memories of Neymar. From the first time they made love, to the last. This bed was there for both of those moments, and Leo wants one night to remember them.

When the morning comes, Leo showers and dresses mechanically. He's lost Neymar. The doctor might have said that Neymar loved him still, but Leo knows that Neymar won't stay with him, not when there's a chance he could have a doctor. Neymar's a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them, and staying with Leo would be stupid. He's a lying cheat, and Neymar deserves more. Neymar deserves a man who'll cherish him, a man who'll be faithful to him, a man who'll place him above all else and do anything to keep him safe. Neymar deserves a man who's not Leo.

"You look tired, babe." Cristiano laughs as Leo walks into the little bistro, and all but collapses on the chair. "Your whore-"

"Don't." Leo snaps, and Cristiano has the grace to look contrite. "Not first thing in the morning, just let Neymar rest." A waiter comes over, and sets a glass of water down in front of Leo.

"I already ordered." Cristiano grins and Leo nods vaguely, downing the water quickly.

"Great." Leo offers blandly. He hopes this meal goes quickly. He hopes that Cristiano won't mention Neymar again. He hopes that the doctor manages to persuade Neymar to return to the motel. He hopes that he can wrap his arms around Neymar and never be parted from him again. Last night had been painful. Lying in bed without Neymar had almost been physically painful. Leo knows that Neymar will leave him, and when he does Leo hopes that he doesn't survive for much longer. He's certain that a life without Neymar in it is one he doesn't want, and couldn't endure.

After breakfast Cristiano insists on driving Leo to the motel. One of his hands rests on Leo's thigh the entire journey, and Leo felt torn between ignoring it, and batting it off. He's not sure he's in the right frame of mind to deal with anything. He's avoiding thinking about last night. He's avoiding thinking about Neymar being gone. He's avoiding thinking about sleeping in the bed he made love to Neymar for the first time. He's avoiding thinking about how that is the same bed they made love for the last time. Mostly though he's avoiding thinking about Doctor Philippe Coutinho, because Leo has nothing but questions on that front, questions he can only hope will be answered for Neymar. The doctor is a mystery, and Leo isn't happy about that, but he's not happy about many things. All the things he's not thinking about because he knows they're going to hurt are all preventing him from being happy. At this rate Leo doubts he'll ever be happy again. Cristiano clears his throat loudly, and Leo turns to him in confusion.

"Sorry, I was miles away." Leo offers absently as he forces a half-hearted smile to his lips. The last thing he is, is sorry, but Cristiano doesn't need to know that, though he probably wouldn't care if he did. How Leo actually feels isn't high on Cristiano's list of priorities.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow." Cristiano smiles, his hands framing Leo's face. He leans in for a kiss, then starts nipping down Leo's neck. As pleasant as Cristiano's ministrations are, there's always a voice in the back of Leo's mind that's reminding him that Cristiano is essentially a client. Cristiano is little more than a john and if Leo just told Neymar what was going on it might be okay. If Leo explained that he was whoring himself out to keep them safe, Neymar would understand because he's done the same thing so many times too, but that was on the streets. They're tentatively in the world of scurriers now. They're not whores any more, and the rules of the streets don't really apply. Leo made that decision. The doctor provided the seed money, and Leo's been supplementing it. He's paying for this situation, and he's bitterly resentful of all of it but the fact that Neymar's now safe. Neymar's safety is the only thing that really matters in all of this.

"Don't mark me." Leo raps on the back of Cristiano's head when he notices the feeling of what hopefully won't be a hickey on his neck. Cristiano laughs, and laps at the spot once more.

"Tomorrow, babe." Leo gets out of the car, and braces himself for the walk back up to what will likely be an empty hotel room. Only the room isn't empty, Neymar's standing with his back to the door, but he turns around quickly when he hears the door open.

"Baby?" Leo's eyes linger over Neymar. He looks sick, his hands are shaking slightly as he clings to the cell phone. "You're home." Neymar tosses the cell to rub at his eyes, and Leo takes a step forward. Neymar looks at him. There's something painfully wounded in Neymar's eyes, something deeply hurt. There's a moment where Leo's certain that Neymar is going to come to him, where he'll get to wrap his arms around Neymar's waist and hold him tight, but it doesn't happen. Neymar's eyes flicker to the side of Leo's neck, then he leaves. No words, no nothing, he just goes, and Leo touches the spot on his neck where Neymar had been looking. He goes to the bathroom to look, to see what Neymar had seen.

 

"What happened to your hand?" The next morning Sergio sounds half amused, and half concerned. He keeps eyeing the crude bandaging on Leo's right hand cautiously. Leo doesn't answer him, instead he keeps working to clean the club, carefully not thinking about the shattered mirror in the motel bathroom, carefully not thinking about the hickey on his neck that he's got covered up with a turtle-neck that was probably once black, but now is some unidentifiable colour. "C'mon, seriously what happened?" Sergio leans against the wall as Leo keeps focused on trying to scrub one-handed.

"Nothing." He mutters, cursing the fact he'd punched with his right hand, picking out the glass hadn't been fun, wrapping it hadn't been easy, and if it wasn't for this club he'd never be in this position. Sergio sighs awkwardly, and fidgets.

"I had brunch with your Neymar yesterday." He offers cheerfully, and Leo looks up so fast his neck hurts.

"What?" He croaks out, and Sergio nervously rubs at the back of his neck.

"Yeah... Uh... We ate together... I paid, and..." Sergio laughs slightly; a look of slight guilt crosses his face. "I outed you and Cris to him." A sudden bright smile settles on his lips. "Cris was pretty delighted, and well it just means you can stop slumming with the who-" Sergio gets no further with his sentence, and Leo once more curses the fact he's right-handed. "What the fuck was that for?" Sergio looks furious from his spot on the floor, as he rubs at his recently punched jaw. Leo stalks closer, but a hand snags the back of his shirt.

"Enough." Cristiano's voice is heavy, and Leo feels sick. "Sergio finish up here. I told you not to mention what happened with the ex to Leo." Cristiano presses a firm kiss to the side of Leo's head, and the sick feeling in Leo's stomach grows.

Cristiano leads him up to the office, and as soon as the door is closed he moves in for a kiss, but Leo steps away, putting as much distance between them as he can.

"What?" Cristiano asks, confusion in his voice. "We've been getting on so well this last week, and now that your boyfriend is out of the picture, what's the problem?" Cristiano moves closer, a leer in his eyes. "We both know he's run off to the good doctor. We both know that he's probably finding comfort and succor there, so why should you go without?"

"Why... Why are you doing this?" Leo wishes he sounded stronger, wishes that Cristiano's words didn't affect him so much. "How the fuck do you know about Neymar's doctor? Why the fuck did you do any of this?"

"The doctor?" Cristiano laughs softly, and shakes his head. "My cousin's wife is a doctor too. She was talking to Dr. Coutinho who mentioned he'd recently been reunited with an old friend through some volunteering he did. It didn't take much to put all the pieces together when you started talking about Neymar." Cristiano reaches out to Leo, his hand curves around his cheek. "Why I'm doing this... It's simple, Leo. You're a handsome man, and I want you. I told you I wanted you, and well it just so happens Sergio is both nosey, and not subtle." Cristiano's hand tangles in Leo's hair, drawing him closer. "Which worked out pretty well for me." Leo wants to step away, but it's then he realizes he's backed against the wall. There's nowhere to go, and he feels more trapped than ever. On the streets he'd been trapped by circumstances, but nothing's changed, he's still trapped by circumstances. If he leaves this job, he'll be back on the streets, and without Neymar there'll be no reason to keep going. Neymar was everything Leo needed to keep. Neymar was everything. Without Neymar there's nothing, no point, no reason, no motivation to keep fighting. When Cristiano moves in for a kiss, Leo doesn't resist, there's no point anymore.

A week passes. A week where Leo barely bothers going back to the motel. He's there maybe twice to grab some clothes, and to pay the rent. Neymar's things are still there. It's as though Neymar has simply vanished from Leo's life, and it reminds him of the few times when they were on the streets where Neymar would just not be there. He'd usually be off with clients. The nice ones who paid him that little extra to have a stray live with them for a bit. This time though, Neymar's not gone for a little while, this time Neymar's gone for good, of that Leo's sure. He's lost him once and for all this time, and it hurts.

Cristiano had conceded to Leo staying in the motel on his day off only after Leo had sucked him off behind the bar whilst on shift. Cristiano's stepped up his affections for Leo. He's more handsy, more insistent, more demanding, more not Neymar, and Leo needs a day to just think about the mess his life is in.

He spends the day hiding, curled up in bed with a tub of ice cream watching Harry Potter, and not thinking though. There's a list of things he should think about. He needs to examine what the doctor said to him. He needs to think about how to get away from Cristiano. He needs to think about how to survive with a shattered heart. He need to fully think about not having Neymar anymore, because if he's learned only one thing from with week, it's that without Neymar in his life, even a little, Leo is broken. Cristiano's commented on it in a petulant tone. It's almost as though he can't understand that Leo's not related to no longer have Neymar, like he can't process how he's not an upgrade on a formerly homeless former prostitute. He's not, he'll never be able to hold a candle to Neymar, and Leo can't face the idea of explaining that to Cristiano. There's very little chance Leo would be able to, and even if he could, Cristiano's worst fault is his arrogance. He'd never accept that Leo doesn't, and will never love him.

He falls asleep embarrassingly early, and dreams of sweeter times. He dreams of sleeping on the streets. He dreams of being filthy, and cold, and hungry, but happy, so very happy. He dreams of the little lean-to, he dreams of fights with scurriers, he dreams of begging. He dreams of Neymar. He dreams until there's a sudden draft, and a weight makes the bed dip.

"Don't ask me anything, not yet at least. Tomorrow we can talk, but tonight don't let me go." Neymar's familiar husky voice in his ear, Neymar's body in his arms, Neymar's scent in his nose, Neymar's warmth in his bed. Questions can wait. Everything can wait. Everything in that moment is perfect, and Leo isn't going to question that.

"Never letting you go, baby... Never. Love you." Leo mutters, and Neymar makes a soft noise, the softest noise Leo's ever heard. He moves in Leo's arms, and kisses him fiercely before settling back down.

"Good. Love you too."


	19. Lucho

"I'm sorry about last night." It feels like an insufficient apology for the minor breakdown he'd had last night, but it's all Neymar can think of to say. He should have handled the inevitable better, but he didn't, and he's annoyed with himself, though his annoyance is warring with, and losing to his miserable self-pity. It's indulgent, but he can't help but think he deserves to be a little self-indulgent. His life has been shattered once more, he may not have lost who he is entirely, but he has lost himself. Leo was how Neymar defined so much of himself for so long, and now that's gone.

"Sorry? Why?" Phil looks up from the newspaper he's reading, and Neymar shakes his head as he flops down into the chair opposite him.

"Because I should have known better." Neymar laughs mirthlessly, and Phil looks slightly confused. "I should have known that as soon as something better came along, Leo would be off."

"I don't..." Phil stands, and pours Neymar a cup of coffee, handing it to him before taking his seat once more. "I didn't get the feeling that Leo was cheating on you when I went to see him. I think there's something else going on here."

"There were messages, Couti, lots of messages." Neymar takes a drink, and stares down at the murky liquid in the cup. "I'm not good enough for him, not good enough for anyone, and he realized that. I'm happy he's found someone to take care of him."

"Ney, that's bullshit, and you know it. He loves you. If I only got one thing out of my meeting with him it's that. He loves you, and I'm sure there's a reason for those messages. I'm sure there's a reason he's been sleeping with his boss." Phil places an almost undue amount of stress on the word boss, and Neymar snorts dismissively at him.

"I don't wanna dwell on it. He's done with me, and I should focus on finding out who I was. I need to start pulling myself back together." Neymar drains the last of his coffee, and Phil stares at him hard.

"It's okay to be broken up by this." He says mildly, and Neymar finds he can't meet the earnest gaze the doctor is leveling him with. "You can break down, you can scream and shout, whatever it is you need to feel okay, even for a little bit, do it."

"I..." Neymar sighs, and scrubs a hand over his face. "Can I borrow your shower again?" Phil barks a surprised laugh, and nods.

"You know where it is. I'll find you something to wear. I put the clothes you were wearing in the machine." Phil stands, and hauls Neymar to his feet, pulling him into a tight hug. "You'll be okay, no matter how this plays out, you'll be okay." Neymar returns the hug. In Phil's arms he can almost believe those words to be true.

The next few days are surprising for Neymar. Without Leo in his life there's a bleeding, aching wound on his soul, but it's not as bad as it could be. Living with Phil is comfortable. It's easy to fall into step with his life, easy to spend time doing nothing much of anything other than leafing through the photos in the shoebox on the coffee table, translating the real Neymar diary, or staring up at the doodles on the ceiling. Some times Neymar'll have the strangest sense of deja vu when he's doing the most mundane things in Phil's apartment. The most common is when Neymar's cooking. He'll be stirring at some pot, and the overwhelming knowledge that he's done this before will come over him. He knows this apartment, he knows what it's like sharing a living space with Phil, granted he's certain it was never this living space, but he knows Phil's habits. He knows that if Phil has his way he'd sleep till noon, and not go to bed till the small hours of the morning. He knows that Phil doesn't like mushrooms, and isn't fond of music, because he prefers talk radio. He knows that Phil likes to sleep on his side, and Neymar's fine with that because as much as he likes cuddling up to someone, he prefers to be the little spoon.

"Something smells good." Phil sounds at once exhausted, and happy as he comes wandering into the kitchen one evening, his voice jarring Neymar from the odd familiarity of stirring a pot at this stove.

"Yeah... Well hopefully it'll taste good." Neymar turns to him with a smile, and finds himself staring at him blankly. There's something in the pit of his stomach, something flowing through him, something warm and happy. He's not felt with way since he was on the streets. He's not felt this way since before he got sick, since long before finding Phil again. That something, this feeling, it's something Neymar's only felt with Leo, and feeling it so profoundly now surprises him. He can't remember what he was going to say, so all he can do is stare dumbly at the confused looking Phil.

"Hey... You okay there?" Phil waves his hand in front of Neymar's face.

"Yeah... I'm good." Neymar smiles, and goes over to Phil, pulling him into a tight hug. "Thank you."

"For what?" Phil returns the hug, his arms wrapping around Neymar tightly. Neymar ignores the question in favor of snuggling closer. "Your pot's burning." Phil laughs after a little while, and Neymar hurries over dinner, stirring at it frantically. "What were you up to all day then?" By the sound of things, Phil is fetching plates, and setting them on the table.

"I was working on the diary." Neymar serves up, and sticks the pot in the dishwasher. "I'm nearly finished, but I think there's something missing... It's like this is a code for something else."

"If there's something else, it'll be in the basement. I'll get you the key." Phil wanders off, and comes back with a small brass key. "I boxed everything up, and locked it down there." He starts eating, his expression closed and tight.

"You don't mind me looking?" Neymar asks softly, cursing the fact he can't read people well, though Phil isn't as difficult as most other people to read, Neymar can't decipher the expression on his face in that moment.

"It's your stuff, Ney." He doesn't look up at Neymar, instead it seems Phil is fully engrossed in his meal.

"Couti... They're the real Neymar things... You said yourself, I'm not him."

"I know... But they are yours. You are, even if you aren't, him." Phil huffs a laugh, and grins at Neymar. "All your old clothes are down there... Fuck I should have remembered that sooner." He laughs again. "We eat, then we head down to re-familiarize you with your old wardrobe, Ney."

They spend the night down in the basement picking over his old clothes. Neymar's relieved that it seems he dressed in a fairly relaxed style. There's only one suit, and very few items that Neymar would turn his nose up at wearing. Phil pointed out the boxes of paperwork that Neymar might want to look through later in the week, but by far the biggest surprise was the discovery of his old cell phone. Phil had seemed surprised, and Neymar was downright floored. He'd have expected the real Neymar to have it with him when the accident happened, but the fact that it must have been in the apartment raised some questions that Neymar didn't want to dwell on too much.

"Ney?" The next night Phil's shout has Neymar poking his head out of the basement door. He'd spent all day going through his papers, and had found a little black notebook, that Neymar managed to work out was linked to the diary. The diary acted as a decoder of sorts of the notebook which turned out to contain a list of phone numbers, dates, and times. "I had a feeling you'd be down here." Phil follows Neymar back down the stairs to the now more messy basement. "I come baring gifts."

"I can smell burgers." Neymar chuckles as he returns to the notebook. He thinks he should check to see if any of these numbers match ones on the phone, but the battery in the cell was dead, and Neymar hadn't spotted the charger for it.

"Yup." Phil laughs, and sits down by Neymar on top of one of the stuffed cardboard boxes.

"For a doctor you eat pretty shitty." Neymar bumps Phil's shoulder, getting a bark of laughter from him, and an arm around Neymar's own shoulders, holding him close to the doctor's side.

"Yeah, yeah... I got you something else." Phil drops a box down in Neymar's lap, and he glances down at it.

"No." Neymar shakes his head firmly, and Phil presses a quick kiss to the side of his head.

"Yes." He stands, moving to fetch the bag of food he'd left on a different box across the room, and Neymar carefully sets the phone box on the counter in front of him. He knows how much a cell phone like the one the box costs, and he can't accept that.

"Couti, you're letting me live here, you're letting me eat your food, and sleep in your bed-"

"Ney... Those things are the least I can do for you. The absolute, bare minimum." There might be a smile on Phil's lips, but there's conviction in his blue eyes. That warm feeling comes over Neymar once more in a flood. "That phone is nothing compared to what I should be doing for you... If I could I'd give you what you're here for, but I can't, and you need a phone. So please, take it." Neymar stands and approaches the doctor, licking his lips nervously. He'd like to kiss Phil. He'd like the doctor's hands on him in a way far more intimate than usual. He'd like to taste Phil's mouth, and the depth of how much Neymar would like that surprise him, but he knows Phil would deny him. They've not spoken about Leo since Neymar's crying fit the first night he came to the doctor's home, but Neymar knows that Phil thinks Leo has a good reason for cheating. So he doesn't kiss Phil, instead Neymar tries to convey his gratefulness, his love in nothing more than a hug. "So, did you find the charger for the phone?" Phil asks once Neymar's taken his spot on his box once more.

"Nah, I was playing at decoder all day." Neymar carefully avoids looking at the new cell phone box as Phil sets his food down in front of him.

"I think it might be in one of those boxes... I think that's where I put the electronics. Lemme eat, then I'll take a look."

They spend the rest of the evening in the basement, talking about their days, and waiting for the phone to charge. It's a nice quiet night. The sort of night Neymar thinks most other people have all the time, but he'd never had until recently. A quiet night at home sorting through the junk in the basement is probably not one most people would enjoy, but that night as he lies cuddled up with Phil's arms around his waist, it's a night Neymar thinks of fondly.

In the morning, Neymar looks through the cell phone, making a note of every number in it, and cross-referencing them with the note book. He's surprised to see Phil's number in it. The same number he has now, but Neymar supposes Phil wouldn't have changed it in the hope that one day his Neymar would call him. A futile hope, because until they'd met again Neymar hadn't even known Phil existed. Neymar had hoped there would be old messages between the two of them, but there was only one short terse conversation, and several unanswered ones spaced evenly two weeks apart that read Ney, call me please! Love Couti. Every two weeks without fail, a new message would be sent until the date Neymar met the doctor in the drop-in clinic. The only other number that appears regularly is one that's left unnamed, but it's called and calls often. Neymar had compared it to the notebook, and the dates and times of the calls matched entries in the book. Over lunch he comes to the decision that there's nothing to be lost in calling. So once he's eaten, Neymar dials the number that featured so heavily in little notebook, and his old phone. He's not sure what he expects, part of him is sure that whoever's number this was won't still have the same phone. No one keeps the same number that long, well no one but Phil. The phone rings for what seems like an age, but eventually someone answers.

"Hello?" The person's voice is oddly familiar, and Neymar isn't sure why.

"Hi... Uh... Who is this?" The question makes the person on the other end of the line laugh, and Neymar fidgets slightly. He feels stupid for calling. He should have tried to trace the number some other way, but he'd been excited over finding the number, he'd been excited over the idea of having something to connect him to who he was.

"Shouldn't you know who you're calling?" The man laughs, and Neymar sighs slightly.

"It's a long story... I..." Neymar isn't sure how much of this story he should tell. His pause goes on for longer than it should, and the man on the other end of the line makes an annoyed huff. "Did you know a man named Neymar Júnior?" There's a short pause, nothing but silence from the other end of the phone.

"I do." The man says softly, and confusion fills Neymar. The man can't know the real Neymar because Neymar doesn't know him. He is lost, so this man's claim is either a lie, or he's talking about a different Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior. 

"Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior?" Neymar offer's his full name, and the man laughs softly.

"I know him... I've known him since he was in college ... Why are you asking me about him?" The man sounds almost wistful, and Neymar isn't sure what to make of that tone. He's not sure he trusts this voice on the end of the phone, but he thinks he should meet with the man who owns it.

"I... It's difficult to explain... I know this is presumptuous of me, but I'd like to meet you." The man on the phone laughs at Neymar's question.

"Who are you?" He sounds more amused than concerned, and Neymar's relieved by that.

"I'm... I'm a friend of him." It's a strange way of putting it, and almost entirely false, but Neymar isn't prepared to explain the truth of the matter over the phone.

"A friend? I somehow doubt that, but alright. I'm free this afternoon. I can meet you." The man still sounds like he's laughing at Neymar, but Neymar can't bring himself to mind that overly, not when there's the potential to have a little more of the truth of the real Neymar revealed to him.

Neymar arrives at the little cafe the man had offered to meet him in early, and takes a seat where he can see the door easily. He's no idea who he's waiting for, no idea what the man looks like, but he'd told Neymar he'd send a text when he arrived, as much as Neymar had bristled at the gift of a cell phone from Phil, he can see the value in it, even if it is bewilderingly difficult to use.

So friend of Neymar, where are you? - unknown

Table in the back. - sent

"Neymar?" The man who approaches the table is painfully familiar to Neymar. Few grey hairs, middle age, handsome, dressed in a suit.

"Lucho?" Neymar stares at the man blankly, and he takes a seat opposite.

"My name is Luis Enrique, Neymar." He smiles slightly, and Neymar continues to stare at him. The man opposite him was one of his most regular clients. A man who always treated him well. A man who always paid him extra. A man who treated him as close to a human as anyone, other than Leo, ever did. "Do you... I mean have you remembered who you are?" Neymar shakes his head, and Enrique sighs softly. "I had hoped you had when you called... It would be nice for you to remember." Enrique reaches over to touch Neymar, but he ducks away, and a wry smile stretches Enrique's lips. "Too much to hope for really, isn't it?" He chuckles.

"Why... How do you know who I was?" Neymar manages to force the words out. His throat feels dry, his mind is spinning. He can't process this properly. The man opposite him was his client on the streets, but somehow he had his number. There could be several reasons for that, but there's only one jumping out at Neymar, and it neatly confirms that he was the terrible person Neymar had always thought he was.

"I met you a long time ago, Neymar. Well, I met Neymar a long time ago at least." Enrique smiles, and Neymar takes a sip of the glass of water that's sitting in front of him, trying to keep his heart and mind from racing too far. "Neymar was so young, and well... You were as beautiful in your youth as you are now." Enrique grins, clearly waiting for Neymar to say something, but no words can force their way past the lump in Neymar's throat. He can't begin to work out what to say to the man opposite him. A waiter approaches their table, and Enrique orders two coffees, saying nothing more until both cups are placed down. "With him it was very similar to the way we do business now, Neymar. You were smart, far smarter than you let on, far more capable than anyone ever assumed. I wanted to do so much more for him, but you didn't want to be a kept boy. A hired one was a different matter. I couldn't tell you how you rationalized it, you never said, but I think you liked to think of it as keeping your independence. you was a fierce, burning creature... Beautiful and determined." Enrique takes a sip of his coffee, and stares at Neymar. "You weren't expecting this, were you?"

"No." Neymar scrubs a hand over his eyes, and focuses on the coffee. "I wasn't expecting to hear I was always a whore, if that's what you're asking." Enrique laughs at the comment, and Neymar glares up at him.

"I've never considered you a whore, Neymar." Enrique takes another drink of coffee, and reaches over the table, catching Neymar's hands in his own. "You are something delicate and fragile... Something I have always wanted very much, but you would never let me have you in the way I'd like, so I took you on your terms."

"Why?" It's a stupid question, but Enrique genuinely looks to be considering it carefully. He squeezes Neymar's hands lightly then lets them go, gesturing to the coffee in front of Neymar.

"Drink it before it gets cold." He takes another sip of his own drink, and Neymar follows suit. "Why is a difficult question to answer. With the real you it was because you was smart, and had potential. I want to help you, but like I said, you didn't want to be kept. With you... You are an ember, Neymar." Enrique smiles softly, and reaches out to brush a finger over the scar on Neymar's temple. "I wanted to bring your fire back. When I saw you on the street corner I couldn't believe my luck at finding my Neymar once more, but you're not him."

"I know, and the more I learn about him, the happier I am about that." Neymar snaps, pulling away from the gentle touch sharply.

"You shouldn't be." Enrique laughs softly, and finishes his coffee. "The real you had all the potential, but none of the opportunities. He would have been great, so I let him earn the money he won't take from me." Enrique smiles slightly, and Neymar feels mildly unwell. "He used the money for college. I'm quite certain I wasn't the only lonely old man he was employed by, just as I'm sure I'm not the only lonely old man you've entertained." A strangely sorrowful look flits over Enrique's face. "If only he'd let me keep him... Things would be so very different for both of us, but the arrogance of youth." Enrique waves the waiter over and settles the bill quickly. "If you'd like to talk to me, I'll always listen." He ambles out of the cafe, ad Neymar sits there for far longer than he should turning his newly gained information over in his head. An hour, and two more cups of coffee, pass before Neymar's cell rings. A quick glance confirms that it's a call Neymar will accept, a call from Phil. Neymar leaves the cafe to answer the doctor's call.

"Where are you?" Phil sounds worried, and Neymar isn't sure how to placate his worries. He's not sure of much of anything. He shares more with the real Neymar than a face, and a body. He shares a profession, and a client. It does explain why Lucho was always so nice to him. It explains why he always gave Neymar extra. In dear old Lucho's mind he was keeping his former boy-toy safe.

"I'm at some cafe... I... Come get me... Please." Neymar leans against the wall, siding down it, and Phil asks increasingly frantic questions about Neymar's location, and what happened to him. The first set of questions Neymar answers as accurately and as quickly as possible. He wants Phil there fast. He wants to press his face against the doctor's chest and hide from the truth of who he was for a little while longer. He was a whore, always a whore, and the truth is seeping into his consciousness like poison from a spider bite seeps into your blood. He has a little more information about who he was, but Neymar thinks he could have lived without knowing it. He thinks he could have lived without knowing that Lucho had been his client for years, so many years, and he did nothing to help Neymar. He helped put him through college, but he must have seen how far Neymar had fallen, and yet he did nothing. A few extra bills at the end of a session is nothing compared to what he could have done for Neymar. When he stops to process this, when he actually realizes that almost undoubtedly every number in that little notebook was the number of one of the real Neymar clients, Neymar's going to have another breakdown. The weeping mess he'd been after he'd found out about Leo's infidelity will be nothing compared to the mess having the realization that he really was as bad a person as Neymar had always expected.

"C'mon." Phil's arm wraps around Neymar's shoulders lightly. "Lets get you home, hmm?" Neymar doesn't answer; he simply nods, and snuggles against Phil's shoulder. Safe, warm, far from harm, his face hidden against the thick wool of Phil's coat. Neymar's mind is reeling. He's not sure what to make of what he's just learnt. He was a whore, always a whore. Nothing changed after the accident, well his clientele went down market, but that's all. He doesn't want to think on it, not right now. What he wants is to hide from everything, what he wants is to be safe. Phil guides him into the car, and brushes a soft kiss over the scar. He doesn't say anything to Neymar, instead he stares hard at him for a few seconds. He was clearly making a decision in that moment, the outcome of which Neymar doesn't know. "What happened?"

"I... I met one of the real Neymar clients." Neymar whispers and Phil sucks air in through his teeth.

"Client?" He asks softly, and Neymar laughs, loud, and long, and harsh. It's a laugh without happiness, a laugh Neymar thinks is peculiar to his related incidents.

"Your Ney was, and is, a whore." Neymar bark another laugh.

"No." Phil says simply, and Neymar laughs once more.

"The real Neymar fucked men for money to pay his way through college, and judging by your lack of reaction, I'd say you already knew, or at least suspected that. So yes, your Ney was a whore. Then there's me, and I fuck men to have money so I can afford to eat, so I am a whore. There's nothing to no in my statement." Neymar can feel a laugh that feels dangerously close to tears building.

"No, Ney. Just no." Phil turns to look at him as the idle at a red light. "You earned money to survive. You did what you had to do to be where you wanted to be, where you needed to be."

"I got that money by being paid for sex, that is the dictionary definition of a whore." The slightly hysterical laugh breaks free, and Phil starts driving once more.

"Maybe... But I still-" Phil stops himself from finishing that sentence, and Neymar curls into himself, hiding from his thoughts, hiding from that unfinished sentence, and most importantly hiding from the truth of his past.

"Why are we here?" Neymar mutters once Phil parks the car.

"I've got your key." Phil gets out of the car, and is opening Neymar's door before he can think about what to do. "C'mon, Ney." He offers Neymar his hand, and Neymar can feel the bottom fall out of his stomach.

"Why... Why are we here?" He can't be here. He can't be at the motel. He can't come here knowing that Leo has left him, that Leo cheated on him, that Leo doesn't want him. Not that Neymar can blame him for that. Why would anyone want a whore? Why would Phil want a whore? Neymar ignores Phil's hand, and slinks out of that car. Phil's hands rest on his shoulders, and hold him fast. "Lemme go... That's why we're here isn't it? You know the truth about your Ney, and now you're going to toss me away. You left the real me, and now you're throwing me away. Not like it matters. Without you, without Leo, all there is, is me. I'm not wor-" Phil's fingers tighten, and he pulls Neymar into a hug.

"Stop talking." He mutters in Neymar's ear. "I told you, I'm never letting you go again. I'll tell you as many times as it takes for you to believe me, but I think words aren't enough for you... It's gotta be shown. Isn't that right, Ney?" Neymar's throat feels dry, his fingers feel itchy, and there's a weird ache in his chest.

"How you gonna show me?" He manages to force out, pulling away only enough to be able to focus on Phil's face. The doctor looks slightly thrown when Neymar's hands rest on his cheeks. "Is that why we're here? You gonna prove you're never gonna leave me by renting a room in the roach box?"

"Not quite." Phil mumbles, and Neymar smirks at him.

"Why are we here then?" Neymar finds himself tracing over the doctor's eyebrows, something warm and alive in the pit of his stomach, something he's sure he's probably felt before, but not since he was real. It's different to the feeling of love he has for Leo, something so very different, yet completely the same. He leans forward, and presses his lips to Phil's. It's nothing like kissing Leo, and yet is exactly like kissing him. There's the same familiarity, the same sense of safety, the same passion, but there's a difference, a newness, a difference in technique. It's the same with that feeling, the same feeling, but expressed with a different person, the similarities, the differences, Neymar wants them both, needs them both.

"Ney-"

"Whatever it is you think you're going to say is, don't." Neymar grins, and Phil stares at him. "I kissed you cause I wanted to, and it's for no reason other than that." Neymar lets his grin soften, and Phil shakes his head at him.

"C'mon. You've had a shitty day, and we're here for a reason." Phil starts walking into the motel, and Neymar hurries to catches up to him. He takes a hold of Phil's hand, and is more than pleased when the doctor doesn't pull away, instead he slows to match Neymar's pace, his thumb moving over the back of Neymar's knuckles all the way to a very familiar room.

"Here?" Neymar almost wants to turn tail and run from this room, but even with Phil's hand clamped in his, and the lingering memory of his taste in Neymar's mouth, there's something missing. Having had so little for so long, Neymar is half convinced that he's now become a glutton, not for food, but affection. It might be that he's always been that way. He had been a whore, he had been looking for affection, for love, and had been terrified of what he could have received from Phil, so he'd pushed him away. It's the only explanation for why Phil left him that Neymar can think of. It makes enough sense to him for him to not want to examine it any further.

"You need him, Ney." Phil mutters. Neymar turns to look over at him, and is caught by the look on his face. Phil looks tense, like he's steeled himself against something inevitably painful, his tongue flicks out to lick over his lips, his eyes falling closed. "We can still be friends... It's always been like this, so don't think you owe me anything, or you have to do anything. I'll help you find out as much as you want to know. I'll... I'll make up for not helping you before. I'll try to make up for letting you down... But this is where you need to be. Leo loves you, and he'll have a good reason for what he's been doing. He won't have wanted to hurt you, I'm sure of it." Phil takes a deep breath, and lets go of Neymar's hand. "This week, Ney, it's been... I don't want to say it's been great because you've been hurt so much by this, and by me, and by Leo, but in so many ways for me it was like having what I always wanted back. I had you with me all week, I came home to you, I woke up to you... But it's not what you need. You miss him, you miss Leo so much, and I can't keep you from him."

"He cheated on me." Neymar snaps. He'd been certain he'd been hiding how much he missed Leo far better than this, but it seems that Phil can read him like an open book, and there's a part of Neymar that furious about that. He grabs the doctor's shoulders and spins him around. "He's fucking someone else behind my back... He threw me away... You said you'd not let me go again. I... If I go in there, you're coming with me." Neymar squeezes the doctor's shoulders tightly. "I don't know that this is the place, or the time to talk about this, but I liked this week." Neymar smiles awkwardly when Phil looks at him. "The whole finding out I've always been a whore thing, I could have lived without that, but everything else... I like being with you. I like being the person you came home to... I like our...Thing." Neymar laughs softly, and Phil seems to be losing a fight with a smile.

"Thing?" He chuckles, and Neymar nods. "I guess it's as good a word as any, but what about Leo?" Neymar glances at the door they're standing outside of. On the other side of it is an unknown. Neymar isn't sure if Leo'll be there or not. He might be with his new lover. He might be working. Neymar doesn't know, all he does know is he wants to find out, but not alone. No matter what's on the other side of the door, he wants to face it with Phil.

"You'll come with me?" Neymar pulls the key from his pocket, and slides it into the lock.

"Yeah." Phil stands closely behind him, his chest pressed to Neymar's back, his hands tentatively hovering over his hips. Neymar leans his head back against Phil's shoulder, his eyes closed.

"I love him." Neymar mutters and Phil makes a soft agreeing noise. "I know that if he asked me to, I'd forgive him without a second thought." There's another soft noise of agreement from Phil. "But."

"But?" Phil asks softly, and Neymar turns his head slightly, looking at the doctor out of the corner of his eye.

"But, I just found you again, and I know I know you. I... I know loved you, and I'm sure I still do, so I'm not letting you leave me again." Neymar smirks and Phil tries to step away from him. "Don't." Neymar snaps softly, and turns around so he can cling to Phil. "I don't know what's going to happen, but I do know that you don't get to leave me."

"Bossy, Ney. Always so bossy." It seems like Phil is going to ignore Neymar's hastily given, and ill-thought out confession of love. Neymar isn't entirely certain that was the best moment to mention that, but it's done, and it seems like Phil is more benevolent than Neymar would be in his position. He's grateful for that though, because he's not got the whole thing worked out in his mind yet. He loves Leo, completely helplessly adores him. There is nothing Neymar wouldn't do for Leo, and until Leo's infidelity had been discovered, Neymar had believed Leo to feel the same way, but Leo cheated on him. That infidelity threw Neymar for a loop, one he was already on because of the doctor. At first Neymar hadn't been sure how he'd felt, he'd mistrusted Phil, had doubted him, believed that he was feeding drips and drops of information to keep Neymar coming back, but over time Neymar came to realize that the information was released in small portions to let Neymar come to accept it. Phil has prescribed Neymar his past in small doses so he didn't receive an overdose of information like he did today, an overdose Neymar is studiously ignoring. His past isn't going anywhere, but if Neymar isn't careful his present just might, so he needs to make Phil understand what he feels. Neymar can trust Phil, he knows he can. Every time they're in each other's company there's none of Neymar's usual tension, with Phil he's relaxed in a way he's not even with Leo. There's implicit trust, old familiar safety in Phil's company, and with that safety old familiar feelings have been surfacing. Feelings that have Neymar's heart racing, his stomach churning, and his fingers twitching. He loves Phil. He very probably shouldn't, but he does, and now Phil knows, even if he's ignoring it for now.

"I know. Now, c'mon." Neymar opens the motel room door quietly, and hears the soft click of it behind Phil.

"Go on, get to bed." Phil mutters in Neymar's ear, and Neymar nods as he squints through the darkness, picking out the huddled form of Leo under the covers.

"You too." Neymar turns to press a quick light kiss to Phil's lips, and toes his shoes off. He strips to his boxers quickly, and turns to glare at the doctor who reluctantly takes off his shoes. He seems disinclined to strip any further, and Neymar supposes that's okay. It would be weird for Leo and Phil for them to be sharing a bed with both of them half-dressed. Neymar slips into bed, settling into Leo's arms almost immediately, Phil slinking in behind him, and lying on his back rigidly.

"Don't ask me anything, not yet at least. Tomorrow we can talk, but tonight don't let me go." Neymar murmurs into Leo's ear.

"Never letting you go, baby... Never. Love you." Leo's voice is fierce and soft. It's full of conviction, and Neymar's relieved. He reaches with the one arm he has thrown out behind him towards Phil. When the doctor takes his offered hand, Neymar can't help but make a content little noise. This is exactly what he'd wanted. He shifts in Leo's embrace to kiss him fiercely, trying to impress on Leo that Neymar loves him still, will always love him, even if Neymar's certain he's in love with Phil too, before settling back down. Behind him Neymar and feel Phil's body heat, and his fingers around Neymar's own tighten briefly.

"Good. Love you two." Neymar wonders if Leo will notice that Neymar said that a little too loudly, wonders if Leo will notice that the bed is a little fuller than normal, because Neymar would like their bed to stay this way. If Leo reacts badly to this, if Leo doesn't approve, Neymar isn't sure what he'll do, but he does know that both of these men had promised to keep a hold of him, and Neymar intends to make them keep their promises.


	20. Leo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason why I didn't change the tags.

That night Leo sleeps well. He sleeps far better than he has since Neymar left. He dreams of nothing in particular. He doesn't dream of being cold, hungry, and happy, instead he dreams of vague sensations, and the soft sounds of waves on a beach. When he wakes Neymar is sitting up in bed, Leo's head in his lap, a distant look on his face. It's an expression Leo doesn't know, a strange faraway look, and Leo doesn't like it.

"You're home?" Leo asks softly, and Neymar focusses on him.

"I'm here." Neymar sounds odd, as far away as the look on his face, and Leo frowns, shifting to sit up in bed. "I said you could ask me questions... I... I have one I'd like to ask you first though." Neymar's voice is clearer, stronger, and Leo nods, his attention rapt on Neymar.

"Anything, baby, anything." He isn't sure what to do with his hands, they want to reach out and grab Neymar's, but Leo doesn't think Neymar would appreciate the gesture in that moment, so he folds them in his lap. He wonders what Neymar's question is going to be. It could be one of a million things, but Leo's thinks it might relate to why he's been fucking Cristiano. The answer there is simple, an answer Leo should have given Neymar the first night it had happened, but for reasons Leo's been having a hard time justifying to himself, he'd allowed himself to become a scurrier. He'd told lies and half-truths when he should have remembered that he's not a scurrier. He's homeless, even if he's currently homed; the streets are in Leo's blood. He'd been lying to himself, almost as much as he'd been lying to Neymar, by hiding the truth of what was happening with Cristiano.

"Do you love me?" Neymar's question is quiet, his faraway tone remaining, and Leo stares at him blankly.

"Do you really need to ask me that?" He whispers. It hurts. To hear that soft little question aches more than anything Leo's ever experienced, even the fear of losing Neymar to death or the doctor doesn't hurt as much as hearing him question Leo's love for him. There's one constant in Leo's life, one thing he's certain of, and that is his love for Neymar.

"Please. Just answer me." Neymar says flatly. He sounds like every drop of emotion has been siphoned out of him, and Leo makes a quick grab for him hands, cradling them gently.

"I can't believe I've let you doubt me this much..." The words escape Leo in a pitiful croak, and he raises Neymar's hands to his lips. "How could I?" He murmurs against Neymar's skin.

"Leo." Neymar sounds pained, and Leo looks up at him. His eyes are shimmering with unshed tears, his lips pressed into a thin little line. "Answer me."

"So much." Leo reaches for Neymar's face with one hand, molding it to the curve of his cheek, his thumb strokes over the stark scar on Neymar's temple. "I love you so so much." Neymar nods at Leo's words. It doesn't look like he's going to say anything else, and Leo tries desperately to think of something worth saying to him.

"Couti thinks you have a reason for it... For..." Neymar doesn't seem able to say it, doesn't seem like he can bring himself to voice the fact that Leo was sleeping with someone else.

"The job." Leo provides the answer without the question being finished. "I was sleeping with him to keep the job."

"Why?" Neymar is staring at the wall behind Leo's head, his eyebrows knit in pain.

"The money... I need to keep you safe, baby. I need to keep you warm, and dry... I... Neymar, you're everything to me, and I'll do whatever I have to, to keep you safe." Leo strokes Neymar's eyebrow once more.

"Even lie to me? Hide the truth... Be like them?" Neymar laughs softly, and he leans away from Leo's touch. "For me? No... I don't think it was, not really. He's a good looking guy, isn't he? Tall, handsome, rich." Leo can feel his blood freezing, and he stares blankly at Neymar, watching as he gets off the bed. "You say it was for me, but it wasn't just for me, was it? It can't have been hard to let him fuck you."

"Is it hard to let your doctor fuck you." Leo snaps, struggling out from under the blankets to stand. His fists are clenched, the broken skin of his right knuckles pulling tightly.

"I have never fucked Phil." Neymar sneers, his shoulders setting, his body falling into a fighting stance. "I have never been anything but faithful to you." His tone is venomous, his posture loose and fluid as though he's waiting for the violence to begin.

"Really?" Leo scoffs, flexing his hands, willing the fight to drain out of him. Even if he's still recovering Neymar would probably best Leo in a fight. Not because Neymar's the better fighter, but because Leo could never willing hurt him. The thought of causing Neymar pain, more pain, is abhorrent to him.

"You think I'd lie to you?" Neymar snaps, his eyes hard and narrowed. "You! You fucking dare accuse me of lying" Neymar laughs, a sharp grating sound that has Leo wincing. "You cheated on me, I have never cheated on you." Neymar folds his arms, and looks pained, thoroughly pained. "I... I kissed him. He didn't kiss me back... But I kissed him." The fight leaves Neymar in a flood, and he sinks to his knees, his forehead pressed against the bed. "I want to kiss him again... I want to forgive you... I want to curl up with you both, and I... If it was for me, Leo, why didn't you tell me? If you told me I would've understood... It'd have been a job, but you didn't... You... Left me." Neymar's voice is muffled by the comforter, and Leo clambers over the bed, trying to think of the words he needs to say to make this okay, trying to ignore the fact Neymar said he kissed the doctor and wants to again. It's a problem for another day, something to think about later, not now when Leo wants to stop this from unraveling even more.

"I didn't leave you." It was the wrong thing to say. Leo knows as soon as the words leave his mouth that they were the wrong ones. Neymar takes a shuddering breath, and leans away from the bed.

"You wouldn't touch me." He sounds hollow. He sounds wrong, so very wrong. "You wouldn't sleep in the same bed as me. You wouldn't talk to me."

"I couldn't." Leo wishes he'd made a better opening gambit, but this is the track he started down, and there's no turning back now. "When we came back here, I wanted to make things better for us, to get away from being nothing but a pair of losers whoring themselves out, and when I got that job I thought I could be legit for the first time in my life. I thought that I could finally be the man you deserve." Neymar laughs, and Leo flinches. Neymar's laughter was a harsh, but probably accurate response. Leo will never be the man Neymar needs. The man he needs is in some swanky apartment, with a great job, and Neymar's past.

"A little money to get a place to rest, Neymar. That's what Phil told me when he gave me that money." Neymar laughs again.

"Rest... I've not rested a single fucking day since then... If you'd not dragged me back to that fucking clinic I could have died in peace." Neymar's voice drops, his breath fast and shallow. "That infection should have killed me, and we all would have been a lot better off if it had. None of this would have happened, Leo. None of this should have happened." Neymar closes his eyes, trying to get a handle on his breathing. Leo stares transfixed. He can't think of a single thing to say to Neymar. He isn't sure how to explain how in one way Neymar's very right. None of this should have happened; Leo should have told Neymar about Cristiano instead of trying to hide it. Being open and honest was how they survived on the streets, and it would have been how they survived as scurriers. Whilst in one way Neymar's right, in so many others he's wrong, painfully wrong. If Neymar had died, Leo would be dead or worse. There's no doubting that in Leo's mind, but this isn't something Neymar's going to believe, Leo can tell. Their relationship isn't something that can withstand the assault they've both put it through. This is it, this is the end. It's a painful realization, but Leo can't keep Neymar, so it's time to sever the ties that bind them together.

"I wouldn't have let you die, Neymar." Leo whispers. Neymar snorts, and curls into himself. "And if I'd not taken you, you'd have never met Couti again." He sneers the nickname without meaning to, and Neymar glances at him. "If you'd died where would he be? Still moping over his lost Ney?" Leo barks a harsh laugh, and Neymar's eyes narrow. "You know... I'm fucking Cristiano. I should have told you, but I didn't. I'm fucking him, but it was to keep you here, to keep us here." Leo stands once more, and goes over to crouch beside Neymar. "I fuck him to keep my job. A job I got because of you. I've never lived for someone else until I met you, and every day after I met you was another day I wanted to see your face." Leo reaches for Neymar's chin, holding it lightly. "I've loved you so completely, so wholly since almost the first time I saw you, and you..." Leo leans closer, his lips almost brushing Neymar's. His heart is pounding, there's something thick and heavy in his blood. He knows what he's about to do is both cruel and necessary. "You're a whore." Leo kisses Neymar one last time, his lips lightly brush over Neymar's, and Leo steels himself against the burning need to apologize, and beg for Neymar's forgiveness. "That doctor... All he was supposed to do was tell you who you were, but you couldn't resist the allure of getting yourself in somewhere, could you? Of course you haven't fucked him, you're far smarter than that, Neymar." Leo leans away from Neymar. Neymar's sitting rigidly, his eyes closed, his lips pressed together, the color drained from his skin. "You're not stupid enough to just fuck him, oh no. You're playing this for the long con. Has he told you he loves you yet, or are you still working on making it sound convincing coming from you first? You don't need to worry about that, you're pretty believable." Leo forces a harsh laugh out, and moves away from Neymar, to lean against a wall. Neymar's not moved once since Leo started talking, he looks like he's frozen in place. "I've always believed you at least." Leo chuckles wryly, and finally Neymar looks up at him. "Go on, go." Leo waves at the door, folding his arms over his chest. "There's nothing here for you." Neymar's mouth opens and closes a few times, like he's desperate to say something.

"Leo?" Neymar croaks, and stands weakly. He looks like a wraith, he looks sick, his eyes huge and dark. It takes all of Leo's willpower to remain against the wall. He can't go to Neymar, can't give him any comfort. This is the end, this is Leo forcing him out, and into the waiting arms of the doctor.

"I'd say I hope you find what you're looking for, Neymar, but I don't." Leo keeps his face as blank as his tone. He watches Neymar look around the room frantically, like he was looking for clues as to how this all happened. The conversation Neymar had started, Leo has changed the purpose of. Leo's sure that Neymar would have forgiven him, but forgiving Leo isn't what Neymar needs. Neymar needs to distance himself from the streets, he needs to be kept safe, and Leo can't provide that, so Neymar needs to go.

"Leo..." Neymar almost staggers over to him, and slumps so his head's resting against Leo's shoulder. "I forgive you... This Cristiano thing, this job... Forget it, don't do this to me." He whispers, and Leo closes his eyes firmly. He needs to do this, he needs to make Neymar leave.

"Get out, Neymar. Go away, don't come back. I don't want to see you. I don't want you in my life. I don't love you." Of all the lies Leo has told since they've come to this little motel room those are the biggest. There's nothing more false than those three little statements.

"You don't mean that." There's a desperate edge to Neymar's voice, one that Leo ignores firmly. "I love you." Neymar sounds so honest, and Leo hates that the only thing he has to counter Neymar's honesty is lies, but this is for Neymar's own good. Leo has always wanted to be a hero for Neymar, but it seems to save him, Leo needs to play the villain. The doctor will protect Neymar, he'll heal him, and that's the only thing that matters.

"That's nice, but I don't love you." Leo refuses to look at Neymar, even when Neymar grips his shoulders tightly.

"Look at me, and say it." Neymar pleads, and Leo takes a deep breath. He can feel his heart breaking with each second that passes. He meets Neymar's eyes reluctantly, sees the desperate spark of hope in their depths, and Leo knows he needs to snuff that light out once and for all.

"I do not love you." He says each word carefully, speaks slowly and calmly as he stares into Neymar's eyes. The hope dies, and Neymar shrinks away from him. He packs his few belongings into a bag under Leo's empty stare. Before he leaves the room he pauses, looking around it, his eyes lingering over the bed.

"This is the room we rented that one time, isn't it?" Neymar says softly. Leo nods tightly, and Neymar looks like he's fighting tears. "Be safe, Leo. Be happy... I... I l-"

"Go." Leo stops him from finishing that sentence. Leo can't hear Neymar confess his love again, if he does his resolve will falter, and he'll take back every lie he's spewed forth. Neymar looks wounded, and he nods. He sets the key down on the table, and closes the door behind him quietly. It takes Leo less than a moment to sink to the ground. He face pressed against his knees as he weeps.

 

"Leo?" Cristiano sounds at once surprised, and delighted to have Leo turn up on his doorstep. "What happened? Why are you here? Are you okay?" Leo doesn't answer, instead he launches himself at Cristiano, kissing him fiercely, kissing him until the only thing Leo can think of is the pounding of his blood, loud in his ears. It's not a kiss he's ever shared with Cristiano before, it's nothing like any of the tainted kisses they've had before, and whilst it's nowhere near as enjoyable as kissing Neymar, it's not bad. If anything Leo thinks he's enjoying this, so long as he keeps thoughts of Neymar from his mind. Cristiano breaks the kiss with an oddly tight smile. "Not that I'm complaining, but what's gotten into you?" Leo doesn't answer, instead he latches onto Cristiano's throat, worrying a mark there. Cristiano moans softly, his head tilting to one side, giving Leo more room to work. "Upstairs, to bed." The words are almost breathed out, and Leo nods slightly. He kicks his shoes off, and starts stripping on his way up to Cristiano's bedroom.

In the bedroom Leo falters in his determination. He can hear Cristiano gathering the clothes he's shed on the way up here, humming softly to himself. The bed is huge, dominating the room ominously with it's ostentatious grandeur. Neymar is gone. The knowledge hits Leo once more in a wave at that moment. His whole reason for being in Cristiano's employ, his whole reason for being in this house, his whole reason for being is gone. There is no reason to be here. There is no reason for any of this. Cristiano's arms around Leo's waist jolts him from his thoughts.

"Hey..." Cristiano murmurs against Leo's hair. "So, you were all raring to go downstairs." He kisses Leo's hair, and Leo closes his eyes.

"Just waiting for company." Leo mutters, turning in Cristiano's arms. He pulls him into a kiss, that Cristiano quickly takes command of, his tongue dominating Leo's mouth effortlessly. They fall back onto the bed, Cristiano pinning Leo down easily. "Gonna have to get undressed to make for good company, Cris." Leo smirks. Cristiano backs off, and starts stripping, his eyes focused on Leo, an odd expression in them.

"Are you okay?" Cristiano asks softly, as he settles between Leo's thighs.

"Yeah." Leo tries to make his answer sound firm, but it's a far bigger question than Cristiano realizes. "C'mon, I wanna get fucked good and hard." Cristiano laughs, and leans over to grab his lube from the night-stand. His first finger breaches Leo carefully, easing in and out slowly. A second finger is introduced with equal slowness. It seems Cristiano isn't in any kind of hurry. His attention fully on the task of stretching Leo out.

"Did..." Cristiano trails off, and leans over to grab a condom. The task of sheathing his cock taking up far more of his attention than it should. He eases inside Leo, stilling when his cock is fully inside of Leo's ass. Cristiano starts moving at the same slow pace he had prepped Leo. His movements languid, his fingers stroking over Leo's face. "There's something wrong." It's not a question, and Leo rolls his eyes. He's not having a heart to heart with this man. This man ruined his life. If it wasn't for Cristiano, Leo would only be losing Neymar to the doctor, he wouldn't have betrayed him, wouldn't have lied to him, wouldn't have convinced Neymar that he didn't love him.

"It's nothing." Leo rolls his hips trying to inspire Cristiano to move faster.

"Nothing? It doesn't look like nothing." Cristiano looks perturbed, and Leo sighs. He reaches up, and drags Cristiano down into a kiss.

"Neymar left me this morning." It's as much as Leo's going to give Cristiano. It might only be a little, but it's a lot more than he'd wanted to give the man who'd hastened the destruction of the one relationship Leo's ever wanted to last. "Doggy?" Leo shoves as Cristiano's shoulders, moving to rest on all-fours when Cristiano pulls out of him.

"He left you?" Cristiano drapes himself over Leo's back. "Does that mean finally get you?" Cristiano rubs his cock-head at Leo's asshole, and Leo thrusts back against it. The head doesn't slip inside, and Leo lets out an only half-faked moan of disappointment.

"It means we're fucking right now." Leo looks over his shoulder, trying to look coy.

"Yeah... I guess it does." Cristiano thrusts in firmly, and finally speeds up, one of his hands gropes around to take a hold of Leo's half-hard cock. "You're not into this?" Cristiano mutters into Leo's ear, and Leo rocks back into Cristiano's thrusts. "Thought you wanted to be fucked." He grunts, and Leo drops his head to rest his forehead against the pillow. His mind conjures up the memory of Neymar's thin fingers around his cock. The memory of Neymar's delicately firm touch sending blood rushing to firm-up Leo's length. "That's it." Cristiano presses nipping kisses to the back of Leo's neck, and starts fucking him in earnest. There's no more talking, only grunts, moans, and the slapping of skin on skin. Cristiano comes with a bellow that to Leo always sounds put on, and mildly ridiculous. He comes with his eyes closed, and a fading image of Neymar from the last time they made love in his mind. Cristiano pulls out of Leo to flop onto his back, and chuckles softly, his eyes fixated on Leo's face.

"What?" Leo asks merely because it seems like a question he should ask. He doesn't much care why Cristiano's laughing and grinning like an idiot.

"You're single now, right?" Cristiano reaches out to Leo, and Leo slips from the bed.

"I'm gonna shower." He mutters, and Cristiano chuckles once more. Leo had known what Cristiano was going to say, and there's no answer Leo could give that wouldn't either be a lie, or something Cristiano wouldn't want to hear. By the time Leo finishes in the shower Cristiano's fallen asleep. Leo starts pulling on his clothes, and considers his options. If he stays, he can work in the club, he can cultivate a relationship of sorts with Cristiano, he can live with the specters of Neymar. If he stays he'll live with the knowledge that somewhere Neymar's safe, Neymar's happy, Neymar's with someone who's not Leo.

He sneaks out of Cristiano's house in the early hours of the morning. He can't stay here. He can't stay in Barcelona. This was his home with Neymar, and now Neymar is gone. He cut Neymar free, and he gave Cristiano his goodbye fuck. There's nothing tying Leo to this life anymore. He's free from any obligations he had to being a scurrier. He's free to return to where he belongs. He's free to return to his contemplations. He's free to return to only having to worry about himself, a state he's not been in, in years. He's free to return to being homeless. It's almost a relief really. The years with Neymar were stressful. Wonderful though they were, having someone else relying on him was hard work for Leo. He's not the sort of man who's ever been dependable. Leaving him is the greatest service he can do for Neymar. This way Neymar is free. Leo's not a hero, he could never be, but he's delivered Neymar into the arms of one, and that has to be enough.

The walk to the bus station is long, and cold. On route, Leo resolves that he's going somewhere else. He's sick of Barcelona. He's going to head somewhere nicer. The cheapest ticket to somewhere relatively warm turns out to be Madrid, so Leo buys it, and wonders what it'll be like being homeless there. He can't imagine it'll be fun or safe, but it'll be so different to Barcelona that he doesn't care. Not Barcelona is the only remit he has. Barcelona already is steeped in the strange haze of nostalgia. As he'd walked he'd passed so many little places that held so many memories. He walked past the spot where he first met Neymar, and hadn't been able stop himself from checking to see if Neymar's name was still scrawled there. It'd been a surprise to see that it was. Leo's own name had still be there, and around them both there'd been drawn a crude heart, a heart that Leo knows he'd not made. A foolish part of him had hoped it was Neymar's handy work. He'd taken very little with him on this exodus. A small bag, filled with the lighter of his scurrier clothes, his cellphone, its charger, and all the money from the hiding spot in the motel room. So he'd taken a picture of the little love-heart graffiti with his phone, and set it was the wallpaper for the tiny screen. He's no pictures of Neymar, nothing but his memories to recall how beautiful Neymar had been, so this simple piece of graffiti feels like the only physical thing Leo has of Neymar, and he knows he'll treasure it.

He's been on the bus for maybe two hours when his cell chirps, and Leo glances down at it in surprise. The message is from a number that's been saved as Neymar, and it reads simply.

Be warm. Be safe. Be happy. - Neymar


	21. Neymar

Neymar stumbles from the motel room feeling strange, like he's been emptied of all emotion, and there's nothing left in him to fill it up. He isn't entirely sure what to do now. Leo has cast him aside for reasons Neymar doesn't fully understand. Leo's claim of not loving Neymar anymore is a lie. Neymar could see the truth in Leo's face as he'd watched Neymar pack to leave. Every little item Neymar had tossed into the bag over his shoulder had caused Leo more and more pain. By the time Neymar had been ready to leave, Leo looked white as snow, and his eyes were dark and glassy. Watching Neymar leave had caused him immense pain, but Leo hadn't done anything to stop Neymar from going. So he has no choice but to leave.

He manages to make it down stairs, and he pauses in the lobby. He's no idea where to go. He can't go back to Leo, that's perfectly clear. Leo might love him, but he doesn't want Neymar. Neymar can't blame him for that though. Leo said it himself, Neymar is a whore, and even a cheat like Leo deserves better than a whore like Neymar. The man behind the desk clears his throat loudly, and Neymar is jolted from his thoughts by the unexpected noise.

"You looking to get a discount, babe?" He leers, and Neymar shakes his head sharply. He leaves the motel, and starts walking, aimlessly putting one foot in front of the other, heading for nowhere in particular.

He'd not meant to, but he somehow managed to wind up at the park he and Leo used to sleep in. He wanders through it, heading to where they'd built their little shelter. It's not a surprise to see that someone else has already claimed it as their own. A grubby woman and an unsurprisingly well cared for dog look at him with distrust.

"Whatcha doin' 'ere?" The woman snarls, and Neymar shakes his head, forcing a non-threateningly blank look on to his face.

"I was just looking." He mutters, and the woman glares at him.

"There ain't nothin' 'ere for the likes o' you. Git out!" She makes a vague shooing gesture with her hand, and Neymar backs away from her cautiously. He could take her in a fight, but he'd rather not fight a woman. He senses more than hears the men behind him. For a split second Neymar considers going down without a fight. Physical pain would be far more preferable to the emotional pain he's been enduring, and not fighting back would spare him a lot of trouble, but he then remembers the cell phone in his pocket, the amount of money Phil must have spent on it, and the fact that Leo has that number. Before the break-up, before the mess of that conversation, before Leo had even woke up, Neymar had entered the number into Leo's phone. Men, it turns out, was a generous estimation. The pair are maybe all of nineteen each, and lack any kind of skill. It doesn't take too long for Neymar to deal with them, but they landed more than a few hits. One of his eyes feels like it's going to start swelling, his lip is definitely split, and he thinks his nose may have taken an unfortunate bump. During the course of the fight the woman had slinked off, taking her dog, and her meager possessions. The two kids skulk off, and Neymar is left alone with shack, and his pain.

It was undoubtedly stupid to slip into the rickety structure, but Neymar couldn't resist, and as he lay staring up at the roof, he could feel the ghost of Leo's arms around him. He could also feel his limbs shaking slightly, and his head throbbing. He hopes the headache will pass into more manageable levels quickly. He doesn't want to be in the shack for too long. He shouldn't have come, but he did, and the longer he lies there, the more he remembers his life with Leo. The chapters of Neymar's life are never ended by him. The chapters of the real Neymar were finished, and lost, by the accident. The chapters of Neymar alone on the streets were finished by Leo's persistence, and now the chapters of Leo and Neymar's relationship have been finished by Leo as well. Neymar is facing a blank page once more. A blank page waiting for a new chapter, and he has no idea what story it should tell.

 

"Ney?" Phil opens the door quickly, and the happiness that had been on his face at first seeing Neymar again rapidly fades away at seeing the mess he's in. "Come in... Go take a shower, and I'll patch you up once you're all clean." Neymar steps inside just enough to shut the door behind him, but makes no move to come further into the apartment. It only takes Phil a few seconds to come close enough to Neymar for Neymar to be able to wrap his arms around him tightly, burying his face against Phil's neck. "Ney... Your face..." Phil's hands move slowly over Neymar's back. The touch is wonderfully soothing, and somehow making the ever-growing pain in Neymar's head recede. "Was it? Did he..."

"No." Neymar mutters, answering the half asked question. The cuts and bruises weren't Leo's work. If it were, Neymar would be in at once more, and less pain. More because Leo was a far better fighter, and less because a physical beating is easier to take than an emotional one.

"Do you..." Phil takes a step away from Neymar, and looks at him with concern.

"You gonna finish a sentence at all tonight, Couti?" Neymar grins, and Phil looks at him incredulously for a moment, then laughs.

"If you wanna talk about it, I'll listen." He ushers Neymar into the apartment, and up to the bathroom. "If you don't wanna talk, I'm not gonna pry... But..." Phil inhales sharply, and turns to look at Neymar once more. "You've been crying." He doesn't reach out to Neymar, instead he fixes Neymar with a firm stare.

"Yeah." Neymar nods, and he half-heartedly swipes at one of his cheeks. He can feel the tightness of the tear tracks on his face. "I was... It's been a rough day." Neymar keeps walking up to the bathroom. He can hear Phil pottering around, collecting clothes that he sets on the toilet lid. "I got jumped." Neymar says calmly as he examines his face in the mirror. He can see Phil's reflection, can see the tight press of his lips, the slightly manic worry in his eyes. "I'll let you look once I've showered..."

"The tears?" Phil asks softly, and Neymar closes his eyes. The tears have two sources, the pain in his head, and the pain in his heart. Pain that Neymar is pretty sure that Phil is capable of taking away, one more than the other, now at least, because the pain in Neymar's heart was caused by being thrown away by Leo. No matter how much Neymar has begun to fall for Phil, that love is nothing compared to the love Neymar has for Leo.

"Leo... Leo and I have parted ways... And my head hurts." Neymar answers the question with more honesty than he'd expected of himself.

"Parted ways?" Phil looks confused, and oddly hurt. "What?" Phil steps closer, close enough for Neymar to feel his body heat behind him. "Is that... I won't pry, tell me when, if, you're ready... And you know you're welcome to stay, Ney." Neymar meets the reflection of Phil's eyes, and he forces a slight smile to his lips. "As for your head... Well, I've been thinking about that." Phil smiles, and wanders over to the bathroom door. "If you want it, I've some painkillers that'll help it, and I can take a proper look if you like."

"I'll think about it." Neymar turn to him with a weak smile, leaving what he's going to think about open ended.

The rest of the evening, Neymar sits pressed against Phil's side, not talking about anything important. True to his word, Phil doesn't pry, instead he makes random comments on the TV shows they're watching, comments that have Neymar laughing. He took the offered painkillers, and for first time in weeks, Neymar's head isn't throbbing with low-level pain. It's strange being pain free, at least headache pain free. The ache in his heart is completely unaffected by the medicine, but Neymar thinks that's a pain that only time, or Leo returning can cure. Eventually they retire to bed, but just before he goes, Neymar sends a message to Leo, a simple message that Neymar thinks will become like the message Phil used to send to his number ever day until they met again.

Be warm. Be safe. Be happy. -sent

He doesn't expect a response, and none comes, despite how often Neymar checks the phone. He wakes up regularly through the night to check it, after a few hours Neymar quits pretending to sleep by Phil and wanders downstairs. He ends up on the couch, staring up at the doodles on the ceiling, thinking over what's happened over the last few weeks. He's trying to pinpoint the moment everything fell apart, trying to map the collapse of a relationship he was sure he'd have for the rest of his life, and he keeps coming back to the moment he fell sick. As soon as he'd shown signs of sickness, Leo had withdrawn from him, almost as if Leo had been preparing to lose Neymar to death. After they'd met Phil, it had seemed that Leo was preparing to lose Neymar to the doctor. Neymar sighs softly, and glances back down at the cell phone. He hopes Leo's okay. He hopes that he's not done something stupid, at least not something more stupid than making Neymar leave him. Though Neymar isn't sure that was a stupid as it feels. Apart there's nothing tying either of them to the streets of Barcelona. Apart Neymar can move on with the life he's slowly forging, he can take the job at Luis' deli, he can maybe see if he can afford a room somewhere nearby it, he can keep visiting Phil, keep learning more about who he was, and slowly become a real person again, and Leo can leave. Neymar has no doubts that Leo will leave this city. He's known Leo for years, and he knows that the only reason Leo stayed so long was Neymar. With Neymar out of Leo's life, he'll have gone to Cristiano, given him a goodbye fuck, and hopefully hopped on a bus to somewhere else. Hopefully Leo will find a little job, a place to stay, some friends, a partner, someone who's a real person, someone who Leo doesn't have to protect, someone who can protect Leo. Neymar hopes that Leo finds someone who loves him even half as much as Neymar loves him, because even half as much is more than most people ever find.

"Hey..." Phil's voice is soft, pitched to wake Neymar gently, as gently as the touch on Neymar's shoulder. Neymar sits up from where he was curled up sleeping on the couch, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. "What're you doing sleeping down here?" Phil cautiously takes a seat beside Neymar, and looks at Neymar with an expression as gentle as his tone.

"I needed to think... I needed..." Neymar sighs, rubbing his eyes once more. "I needed to consider what you offered me." Neymar rests his head against the back of the couch, and looks over at Phil out of the corner of his eye.

"Which offer?" Phil fidgets slightly, and Neymar laughs. He's been thinking about all of the offers Phil made him, talking, a place to stay, the medication, and Neymar has answers for all of them.

"After you left yesterday, Leo and I talked... I say talked, but we mostly argued, and fought... He told me that he was fucking Cristiano to keep me safe."

"I thought so." Phil mutters, and smothers a yawn with his hand. "So... I don't wanna pry but..."

"He made me leave him. Told me he didn't love me-"

"Bullshit." Phil cuts in, and Neymar laughs softly.

"I know, but he wanted me to leave, so he did." Neymar smiles at the doctor, and lets the flicker of warmth in his stomach at the sight of Phil's sleep-rumpled hair flow through him. "I think he's gone." The pain in Neymar's chest grows, the full realization of that fact filling him with a leaden weight. "He's gone, and I'm... I've not really been without him for a long time." Phil fidgets beside him, and Neymar reaches out, catching one of Phil's hands, and he tangles their fingers together. "I lost him, but I get you back, right? You're not gonna abandon me on a whim are you?" Phil laughs, and pulls his fingers away.

"I'm feeding you, pancakes and coffee?" He stands, and offers Neymar a hand, hauling him up to his feet.

"You think I'm ready for working?" Neymar asks as he starts on the coffee.

"The deli job?" Phil asks whilst he starts making the pancake batter.

"Yeah. I wanna start making a life for myself." Neymar watches the coffee machine carefully, watching the black liquid trickle down into the waiting pot. "I wanna be a real member of society again... I wanna get my own place... Have my own money... I don't remember being here, and I'm never going to remember being the Neymar I was, but I wanna try at being the Neymar I am." Neymar glances over at Phil, and is caught by the look in the doctor's eyes. "What?"

"Hmm? Nothing." Phil grins at him, and Neymar rolls his eyes. "Your bank account... Did you find any details for it?"

"I've not looked. I'm gonna head down to the deli later, then I'll start on hunting that down. You think there was any money in it? If there is I can use it as a deposit on a place of my own." Neymar knows that this is little more than a distraction from dealing with the mess Leo's left in his heart, from the mess of learning he was a whore whilst in college, from the potential mess that is his feelings for Phil, but it's a distraction he's more than welcoming of, it's a distraction that could yield results, positive results.

It takes a month in total, from going to Luis Suarez and formally accepting the job, where he learned that Luis also owns the little apartment above the deli, which Neymar asked if he could rent, to dealing with the bank, to finally starting working. A month where every night Neymar sends that same little text message. Be warm. Be safe. Be happy. No reply ever comes, but Neymar isn't expecting a reply, he's expecting nothing from Leo, not any more. There's a part of Neymar that worries that by sending that message, he's keeping Leo trapped in the past, but he can't bring himself to not send it. He needs Leo to know that he still wants Leo to be warm, to be safe, and most importantly happy.

"So... How was the first day as a working man, Ney?" Phil's standing on the other side of Neymar's front door, a box of pizza in one hand, and bag with soda in the other. Neymar ushers him in, and gestures to the couch. The apartment is small, one room and a tiny bathroom, but the rent is cheap, and it's more than enough for Neymar. His first night in his first home, after his first day in his first job. It'd been hard trying to remember everything, but Neymar had found his rhythm surprisingly quickly, and it turns out that he makes a pretty mean sandwich. He's proud of himself, unreasonably proud of himself. For the first time in his life he's independent, and it feels good.

"Not bad, Couti." He takes a seat beside Phil, and flips open the pizza box. "The TV's pretty shit, and I've only got basic." He gestures to the old TV set opposite them.

"Meh, tell me about the first day." Phil pours out two paper cups of soda, and Neymar starts talking. Phil stays for a few hours, eventually telling Neymar about his day, and promising to bring the last of the paper work from him basement to Neymar's place. The idea of having a place of his own still confounds Neymar, and he almost wants to tell Leo about it. He wants to share the huge leaps his life has made over the last month, but Neymar thinks that would defeat the purpose of Leo forcing him to leave. Leo made him leave to make Neymar do this. Granted Leo had assumed that Neymar would fall into Phil's arms, and once more be protected by someone, but that night on Phil's couch Neymar had come to a realization. Ever since his accident, ever since he lost who he was he's been hiding. He first hid behind his memory lose, he hid himself away from his past by not knowing it, and using that as a reason to keep everything, and every one away. Then he hid behind Leo, he was consumed by Leo's love, and in turn consumed Leo with his love. Love he still has, but it's not a love that can be realized, Leo doesn't want it, or doesn't think he deserves it, which Neymar is pretty sure is closer to the truth. Leo's self-loathing goes deep, far deeper than you would think. Leo doesn't think he's worthy of anything, and Neymar realized that night on Phil's couch that he'll never be able to convince Leo otherwise. It'll take a special person to make Leo realize he's worthy of love, it'll take Leo, but Leo isn't given to that kind of self-realization. He can think on the human condition, on other people's worth, for hours, but he refuses to even entertain the idea that he has some value. Neymar hopes Leo will realize it, he hopes that Leo will reply to one of his texts, he hopes, but he's certain it won't happen.

The first time Neymar settles into his own bed, he's almost afraid of how empty and cold it feels. The sheets are new, the comforter, the blankets, even the mattress are new. There's not a scent clinging to the fabric, and Neymar isn't sure he likes that. This is the first time in years he's been without someone beside him. He'd purposefully bought a small bed, one because it was cheaper, and two because he wanted to be alone in it. He wants to be independent. He wants to be a real person. He wants to learn who he is. He doesn't want to be defined by what he's lost, be it the memories of himself, or Leo. Everyone who knew them as a couple had asked about it, and Neymar hadn't really been able to offer too many answers. He thinks he understands, but he can't say for sure, and so he just told them that Leo left him. It seemed easier to not give the full background, to skip the club and Cristiano, and Neymar's friendship with Phil. It is a friendship, at least Neymar hopes it is. Things are moving easily into place with Phil, it's like slipping on an old sweater, warm and familiar. They've not kissed, not since Neymar's impulsive act in the motel what feels like a lifetime ago. Phil, thankfully, has said nothing about Neymar's declaration of love then too. It seems Phil is more in tune with Neymar, than Neymar himself most of the time, but Neymar thinks he's learning his own tune, and he's fairly confident that he knows Phil almost as well as Phil knows him. If their friendship will become something else, Neymar doesn't know. In that moment it doesn't matter. What matters is this is Neymar first night in his own home. His first night after his first day of work. His first night in his own bed. His first night, his first sentence on the blank page of his new chapter.


End file.
